


Out Of The Wild Blue

by BaggerHeda



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Flight attendant AU, FlightAttendant!Waverly, Fluff, Pilot!Nicole, Rating has been changed for later chapters, Slightly slow burn, no demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaggerHeda/pseuds/BaggerHeda
Summary: Nicole smiled. It was a lovely, slow smile with more than a tinge of heat to it. “Are you asking me out on a coffee date, Waverly?” she said, laughter delicately lacing her words. Dolls eyed the two of them and started to smirk, hiding his small grin behind his cup. Waverly felt her ears burning, heated with embarrassment, and what thehell.It wasn’t like she was a stranger to people flirting with her, she would usually handle it like a pro, but something about Nicole and that million-dollar smile was putting her brain in neutral, rendering her incapable of coherent thought.Waverly blurted out, “Maybe you should try asking me when we’re not mid-route,” as she quickly backed out of the cockpit, trying not to listen to the low chuckled laughter as she left. She stood motionless in the galley for a full fifteen seconds, wondering what had happened.Oh, I just got myself in trouble, didn’t I.And she couldn’t deny that part of her was really, really hoping that yes, she did.*****Waverly Earp loves her job as a flight attendant. Then, one day, she meets a tall redhead who sparks her interest a lot more than she was expecting.





	1. Smile And Wave

The pleasant chirp, chirp, chirp of her alarm, starting quiet and becoming louder, dragged Waverly out of a dreamless sleep. Groaning, she fumbled for her phone, forgetting which side of the bed she’d left it on. Ah, there it was. She silenced it and turned on the bedside lamp, sitting up and trying to catch her bearings as she stretched her back. Now, where the hell was she?

Today was Thursday - so she was pretty sure this was probably Vancouver - and she had an hour and fifteen minutes before the crew van pickup. Time to get moving.

She sent Chrissy a quick text. _What is the breakfast plan?_ By the time she had finished her morning routine, she’d gotten a text back: _meet us downstairs, quarter after._ Good, she didn’t remember if this hotel had a decent breakfast bar, so that was always a plus.

She’d neatly laid out today’s uniform last night, after the second day of a four-day trip. Waverly checked it again by the morning light; ready to go, the blouse and skirt immaculate, the flight attendant’s emblem neatly pinned over the left breast. Waverly quickly dressed, finished stowing away her gear in her small crew bag, and was ready to face the day.

Waverly loved her job, had been doing it for almost three years now. Flying for one of the large commercial airlines was a thing that suited her perfectly, she thought. The days could be long but they kept her busy, so she was hardly ever bored. Friends had warned her, when she had first been accepted into the training program, that a flight attendant’s job was both rigorous and mind-numbing, thinking she would burn out on it. Nothing could be further from the truth. While the travel perks of the job were pretty underwhelming, much more than most people thought - sure, she got to see a lot of airport corridors and the insides of hotels in many, many cities - the best part of it was the people. The crews she worked with were top-notch, and for every passenger who was a pill, there were a hundred who were sweethearts, or so it seemed. She enjoyed meeting dozens of new people on every flight, talking with everyone, helping make their day a little easier for the few hours they spent aboard. The smile and wave, which had always come easily to her, served her well in her position.

It helped that she and Chrissy Nedley were working together again. Childhood friends, they had miraculously gotten their acceptance letters at the same time and gone through flight attendant school together, a thing they had planned since their grammar school days. After they graduated, they’d been assigned to separate routes, but now that they’d climbed a smidgen of the way up the seniority ladder, they were able to start bidding on some of the same lines, and had managed to get assigned to the same cabin crew for over a month now. Waverly liked having Chrissy around; she was calm and easy to talk to, and always willing to lend a hand where needed.

The third on their cabin crew was a young man named Jeremy Chetri, who had been assigned with them a couple of times before. He was a little on the high-strung side, earnest and just a tad nerdy, but he was also quite sweet and sensitive, and good with the passengers, especially children. If there were unaccompanied minors on the flight, he would go out of his way to unobtrusively look out for them. He also had a knack for spotting problems before they became trouble - asking maintenance to fix something before it broke, bringing an item to difficult passengers to calm them down, getting people seated and belted before turbulence hit. Waverly had taken quite a liking to him, right off the bat.

Both Chrissy and Jeremy were already in the breakfast bar when Waverly came off the elevator. “Good morning, guys,” she greeted them cheerily.

Jeremy bobbed his head, having just taken a bite of his meal, while Chrissy smiled back. “Good morning, Waves,” she said, “I don’t know how you always look so ready for these early starts.”

“This is hardly early, didn’t have to get up at 4 am,” said Waverly, with a light laugh. “Besides, I didn’t stay up late last night. You just need to sleep more instead of going out partying.”

“It was just a couple of drinks, no biggie,” said Chrissy. “Wasn’t that late. Besides, I’m young. I’ll sleep when I’m old.” She offered Waverly a plate of fruit. “Here, I got this for you. The van is going to be here a few minutes early. And we’re getting a new crew up front today, in case you hadn’t heard. Dave rotated off.” Looking around the room, she added, “I don’t see them here, though, maybe they stayed at the other hotel.”

“Oh, okay, thanks,” said Waverly. She liked the cockpit crew they’d been with for the past couple of days, a couple of decent low-key guys (especially Francesco - Frankie - who’d been at co-pilot, who made the most magnificently awful puns Waverly had ever heard once he had a drink or two in him) but that was just part of the game, crews rotated in and rotated out. Half the fun was that you had new co-workers every day on this job. She had glanced quickly at the names but hadn’t recognized them, and Waverly wondered what the new crew would be like. Would they be okay, or cranky? A few pilots disliked morning commute-time flights with a passion, and if you got one like that who also ran the flight deck like his own little private fiefdom, well, that could make for a long day. But, like anything in the world, it was just luck of the draw sometimes; Waverly knew she’d make the best of it no matter what. Everyone liked her, after all. She ate her small breakfast, then went back and grabbed a couple pieces of fruit and a yogurt to stash in her lunchbag for later, and made a cup of tea. It wasn’t the best breakfast bar in the world, but with their pitiful per diem, it would be foolish to pass up a free meal offered by the hotel.

A few minutes later, the van picked them up and transferred them to the airport, Waverly practically trotting to keep up with Chrissy’s long stride as they made their way to the crew lounge. She was bubbling mad because on the ride over, she’d managed to spill tea on herself like a complete _doofus._ As soon as they were inside the lounge doors, Waverly made her way over to the chairs off to one side, to rummage through her bag, looking for the clean, dry scarf she knew she had tucked away inside. “Oh, crap,” she muttered.

A warm voice behind her said, “Uh oh. You okay there?”

She looked up, startled, and saw red hair, neatly braided, and soft brown eyes. The crewmember was leaning against the doorframe, and had removed her cover, was fingering the bill of the hat, watching her. She was tall, Waverly could see that, and had a warm brilliant smile that could light up an entire room. Waverly said, “Uh, yeah, just had a crazy morning,” as she ducked her head a little, wondering why she was unaccountably blushing. Locating the fresh scarf, she gave it a practiced fold and then arranged it around her throat, clipping it into place with the pin bearing the airline’s maple-leaf logo. “There. That’ll do. All better.”

The redhead tucked her cover under an elbow, the habit of motion making her look almost military, and extended the other hand. Waverly noted the four stripes on the sleeve: captain. “Nicole. Nicole Haught,” she said. As Waverly was about to speak, she continued, “and you must be Waverly Earp. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She leaned in as she dropped Waverly’s hand, saying conspiratorially, “Checked the manifest. I’ve worked with Chrissy before. She does like to talk.”

“Pleased to meet you, Captain,” said Waverly.

“Likewise,” said Nicole with a wide dimpled grin. “So, if you’re ready, shall we go in?” She lifted her hand in a small _after you_ gesture, indicating Waverly to precede her into the briefing room, and Waverly shook her head, just a little bit in wonderment of how entrancing that dazzling smile had been.

*****

The ground crew’s work was finished, the walkaround complete, the baggage was coming on. The copilot, Xavier Dolls, was seated in the chair, going through preflight, but Nicole still lingered in the open cockpit doorway when Waverly hung up the handset. “What did they say?” she asked.

“Gate agent is sending them down in three minutes,” replied Waverly.

“Guess I gotta go to work,” said Nicole with a small chuckle. “Just wanted to inform you. We heard from weather, looks like we’re going to have some rough air about halfway. I’ll let you know when I get updates.”

“Thank you, Captain. Would you like anything from the galley before you close the door?”

“Please, call me Nicole. Not right now, thanks. Maybe when we’re down again.” Nicole smiled. Turning back into the cockpit, she asked, “Dolls? Would you like anything?”

“No thanks, Haught.” He twisted around in his seat, to meet Waverly’s eyes, and nodded gravely. “Thank you.” A smile flickered across Waverly’s face at his seriousness, as he turned back to his tasks.

“Well, I’m going to leave the door open a little while longer while we’re boarding, but you know where to find me if you need anything,” said Nicole, giving Waverly the barest of winks before she ducked back into the cockpit and took her seat, slipping the headset over her pretty French braid.

A few moments later, Chrissy returned to the front of the plane, sliding in next to Waverly as she was giving the front galley one last once-over. “All set back there,” she said, and then gave Waverly a little hip bump. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Who?” asked Waverly, feigning ignorance, which wasn’t going to work on Chrissy for one single minute. The look she leveled at Waverly, with an epic eyebrow arch, made her giggle. Shrugging, she said, “Yeah, I guess,” but there was a voice in the back of her mind hollering _well, DUH._

After that, passengers were coming down the jetway and through the door, and then it was the hectic routine of getting everything stowed and everyone seated and belted in. The captain closed the cockpit door (murmuring “see ya later” to Waverly, with a little smile as she did), the main cabin doors were locked and armed, and they pushed back from the gate on time. Waverly picked up the handset to give the safety instructions while they taxied, as Chrissy and Jeremy took up their positions to pantomime along while the passengers mostly ignored the whole thing. Six minutes later, Waverly was strapped into her jumpseat, hands in the safety position, as the airplane reached the head of the takeoff queue, turned, and throttled up.

Several minutes after leveling off, Waverly was preparing drinks in the forward galley when Nicole’s voice came crackling over the speaker. The familiar cadence of the “this is your captain” announcement, altitude and airspeed, the arrival time and the current conditions at the destination, always sounded a little more pleasant in a female voice, Waverly thought. Even the noise of the aircraft and the tinny quality of the intercom speaker couldn’t quite strip all the warmth from the captain’s voice. Waverly found herself daydreaming for a moment, drifting back in memory to their short conversations earlier that morning, before she shook her head and told herself to focus. _Wake up, things to do now._

The mid-flight turbulence never got all that bad; Nicole had requested and gotten a change to their altitude so they were able to fly over the worst of it. The inflight service went smoothly and Waverly even had a little time to chat with some of the passengers. There was a sweet elderly lady seated in 6C, who told her that she was flying for the very first time when Waverly brought her a second drink. She was traveling to meet her first great-grandchild, she said, a baby girl born four days ago. Her grandchildren had surprised her with a first class ticket.

“Oh, how marvelous!” Waverly enthused. “What is her name?”

“Stella,” the woman answered. “She’s the moon and the stars in their eyes, so that’s what they named her.” Warm pride showed in her smile.

“Well, I hope you have the most wonderful trip ever,” said Waverly, touching the woman’s shoulder. “Enjoy it all.”

They touched down at their first destination of the day, Regina, busy with everything that came with a thirty minute scheduled turnaround time. Once the headcount of continuing passengers was settled, and foodservices was bringing on supplies, Waverly went to the open cockpit door and stuck her head in. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

Dolls looked up from the sheet in his hand, impassive. “I’ll have a coffee, thank you,” he said. “With sugar.”

Nicole smiled brightly as she turned toward Waverly. “Yeah, me too,” she said. “Cream no sugar if you don’t mind.”

Waverly brought two cups into the cockpit a few moments later. She handed them over with a wide smile, saying, “Here you go. Let me know if you’d like anything else.”

Nicole took a small sip. “Hmm. Not bad,” she said.

Waverly huffed, mildly indignant or at least pretending to be. “Not bad?” she said. “I just made that.”

Nicole shrugged. “You know the in-flight coffee is never all that good.” She looked up and, seeing Waverly’s face, softened a little. “It’s okay. It’s fine, thank you for making it.”

Waverly laughed, wondering if Nicole was pulling her leg or not. “Well, true. It’s not coffee-snob level coffee, that’s for sure.” She lingered just a little too long on those warm brown eyes, not certain what she was reading there. “There’s a little bistro near my apartment and they make the best cappuccinos in the world. I bet you would like _those.”_

Nicole smiled. It was a lovely, slow smile with more than a tinge of heat to it. “Are you asking me out on a coffee date, Waverly?” she said, laughter delicately lacing her words. Dolls eyed the two of them and started to smirk, hiding his small grin behind his cup. Waverly felt her ears burning, heated with embarrassment, and what the _hell._ It wasn’t like she was a stranger to people flirting with her, she would usually handle it like a pro, but something about Nicole and that million-dollar smile was putting her brain in neutral, rendering her incapable of coherent thought.

Waverly blurted out, “Maybe you should try asking me when we’re not mid-route,” as she quickly backed out of the cockpit, trying not to listen to the low chuckled laughter as she left. She stood motionless in the galley for a full fifteen seconds, wondering what had happened. _Oh, I just got myself in trouble, didn’t I._

And she couldn’t deny that part of her was really, really hoping that yes, she did.


	2. I Mean It

Four takeoffs, four landings, four legs of the day’s route. It had been Waverly’s favourite kind of day - interesting, with no minor disasters like airsick passengers or babies that wouldn’t stop crying. On the final leg of the day, into Toronto, Waverly recognized one of the passengers as a Canadian actor of some renown - she’d been on a popular show about faeries or something, a few years back - which Waverly thought was kind of exciting.

It had been thirteen hours all told, which, really, was super far from the worst shift Waverly ever worked. Every flight attendant anywhere, she knew, could tell horror stories about delays and redirects and work shifts that dragged on and on and on. Today, she just felt a little bit tired. Sitting in front of the computer in the crew lounge, she rummaged in her bag to find some Aleve, rattled a couple out of the bottle and popped them. Her feet ached. She was going to have to get some new inserts for her shoes, these old ones just weren’t doing it any more.

Waverly looked over at Jeremy, sitting at the computer next to hers. Wow, could that guy type fast. “Hey, Jeremy,” she said, “do you have a favorite shoe insert that you get?”

“Uh, what?” said Jeremy, looking up from his keyboard. “Oh. Nothing special, I just get the regular Dr. Scholls.”

“That’s the way to go,” said Chrissy, sitting nearby. “The super fancy ones are a waste of money. Just get the regular ones that fit your shoes and, you know, replace them all the time.” She fiddled with her smartphone for a bit before looking up again. “Are you almost ready, Waves?”

“Just finishing up,” said Waverly, clicking the ‘submit’ button for her report. “Jeez, remind me to go shopping for those when I get home. My feet are so not happy today.” She started gathering up her things. One more day to this trip, she thought, and then she’d have three whole days off.

Chrissy laughed. “We should buy in bulk, get a discount.” She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Totally,” said Jeremy. “Huge cartons full of them, that you won’t know where to store.” They laughed. Tired feet, bane of flight attendants everywhere.

By now, they were walking out, roly-bags in tow. The corridors of the crew areas of the airport were still crowded enough this time of the night, and the three of them worked their way through the ebb and flow of the people, the colorful uniforms of the various lines' attendants contrasting with the typical somber uniform jackets that the cockpit crews wore. As they reached their pickup area, Waverly saw the crew van was already waiting for them when they arrived, and that Nicole and Dolls were already seated inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Waverly, wondering how the pilots had gotten ahead of them. “I didn’t know you were waiting on us! You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” said Nicole crisply. “Haven’t been here long. Besides, I wouldn't want the driver to have to make multiple trips.”

Waverly’s eyes flicked to the driver, who was loading their bags in the back of the van and didn’t look like he could give a shit one way or the other, before her gaze returned to Nicole. “Well, thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

They piled into the van, sitting in the rows ahead of Nicole and Dolls, and settled in for the short ride to the hotel. “So,” Chrissy ventured. “Are we doing anything?”

“Not sure,” said Waverly, “but it’s a late call tomorrow. This layover is, what, sixteen hours?” All five of them were on the same schedule tomorrow, three legs that would arrive late into Calgary.

“That’s right,” Dolls confirmed, to a chorus of general positive noises in the van. Waverly thought, wow, what a luxury, to have that many extra hours to relax before returning to work. Sometimes it would be a bare nine or ten hours between shifts.

“We’ll figure it out after we get checked in,” said Waverly, catching Chrissy and Jeremy’s eye. At the very least she wanted to splurge on a decent meal, a restaurant meal, instead of scrounging something out of the various snacks and food packages they all carried.

The hotel for the night was one that had an arrangement with the airline plus a superb concierge, so getting their accommodations was effortless. Soon, the group was standing on one side of the lobby, keycards in hand, deciding what they were going to do.

“Would anyone like to meet down here for drinks in, like, twenty minutes or so?” asked Waverly. They all needed to change out of their uniforms, of course, and freshen up a bit, before they could go to the hotel’s bar. Everyone agreed except Dolls.

“Not for me, but you all have fun. See you tomorrow,” he said, and headed off to his room. They bade him goodnight. It was common for some crew members to disappear into their hotel rooms for the duration of a layover, jealously guarding their sleep or their privacy or just how they wanted to spend their time. They were called slam-clicks (slam the door, click the lock) but Waverly always thought that sounded a little too harsh. People ought to do as they pleased and not get judged for it, she thought.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Jeremy, Chrissy and Waverly were seated in the half-full bar, having just gotten their drinks, and were perusing the bar bites menu, when Nicole came strolling in. Wow, thought Waverly - the casual dress-down look was just as sharp on her as the pilot’s uniform. She wore a dark-coloured tailored oxford shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons open at the collar, over skinny jeans and wine-coloured sneakers. Her jewelry was understated, and she carried a lightweight jacket. She wore her hair, still wavy from the braid, down past her shoulders.

Spotting them at the table, she made her way over, seating herself in the fourth chair. “So,” she said. “What are the options?”

“We’re still figuring,” said Waverly, “but first, get a drink.”

Fortunate timing, the cocktail waitress arrived at the table just then, and Nicole looked up and smiled. “Dirty martini, please.”

“It’s still early, going out for a bit sounds good to me.” Chrissy bobbed her head as she took a sip from her drink, a cosmo. “One of the gals I was working with last month told me about a really good jazz club not too far from her, she said the house band had a great throwback swing vibe going. Anyone in?”

“Oh, man, that sounds _great,_ ” said Jeremy. “Can we get food there?”

“Yelp says … yes,” said Chrissy, scrolling on her smartphone. “How about you, Waves?”

“I kind of want to,” said Waverly with a small sigh. It sounded nice, except she was feeling a little extra tired, and she knew it’d make her the grumpypants for the night. “But I also kind of want to have a low-key dinner where I don’t have to go anywhere. I think staying here at the hotel restaurant is more my speed tonight.”

Nicole spoke up. “If you’re having dinner here, would you mind if I join you?” she asked, turning slightly toward Waverly. “I’m not much for going out either.”

“Of course, please,” said Waverly. The memory of Nicole flirting fairly blatantly with her earlier in the day flashed through her mind, along with a few unexpected butterflies, and Waverly steadied herself against making such a rookie fumble again. If some ridiculously attractive pilot wanted to flirt with her, well, she’d give it back as good as she got, not blurt out the first silly thing that came to her.

“Have it your way, party poopers,” said Chrissy. “Jeremy and I will have fun without you.” Waverly glanced up and caught Chrissy’s good-natured grin. There was a little edge to the tease, not mean, but Waverly didn’t quite get whatever Chrissy was hinting at. Oh, except that was totally a lie. She knew _exactly_ what Chrissy was hinting at, and she refused to believe she was anywhere _close_ to being that obvious about how she was just a tiny bit flustered by Nicole.

Jeremy was regaling the group with a small story about the funny passenger of the day (this particular gentleman, apparently, insisted on reading three books at once, and had a peculiar juggling method for those books which involved the tray table and his knee) when Nicole’s drink arrived, and Chrissy drained hers. She stood up, saying, “You wanna head out, Jer?”

He stood as well. “Ready when you are.” Jeremy didn’t drink; he left his half-empty club soda on the table. “See you guys later,” he said, with a slightly awkward wave to Waverly and Nicole.

Waverly settled in her seat a bit more after they’d left, watching Nicole take a sip of her drink. “So,” she said. “They’ll serve us in here, or we can get seated in the restaurant proper. Do you have a preference?”

“Not really,” said Nicole. “Either is fine by me. I was halfway thinking it was going to be leftover granola bars and bad television tonight, so I am going to enjoy this dinner.”

“I want a ginormous salad. Or anything that hasn’t been in my bag all day,” laughed Waverly. “Let’s get seating in there, then, but we can sit here for a few, finish our drinks.” She spun her glass on the tabletop, turning thoughtful. “We haven’t flown together before, have we?” _Because I would have remembered that smile,_ she added to herself.

Nicole’s eyes snapped to hers, as though she’d heard the unspoken comment loud and clear. “No, we haven’t,” she said softly, leaving off some unsaid thing of her own. And _jeez._ Waverly felt it again, the small unnerving tingle, the way Nicole turned her attention and gave her entire focus to Waverly, like she was the most important thing in all the world. It was kind of … intense. You didn’t meet a lot of people with that sort of conversational skill. “But I haven’t been flying with the airline all that long.” She shrugged.

“How long?” asked Waverly, curious.

“Huh, ‘bout a year now. Before this, I was in the armed forces.”

“Oh.” Waverly had halfway been expecting that; a large percentage of commercial pilots were ex-military. Nicole seemed pretty young for it, though.

Nicole’s brown eyes were studying her closely still, almost like she was reading into her thoughts. “I took a medical release when I was injured, so I got out a little bit early.” She took a sip of her drink, exhaled. “But it was always my plan to finish my service and get out, so. It didn’t alter my career path by much.”

Waverly hesitated for a long moment, trying to think of the most polite way to ask her question. “Were you injured … overseas?” Which, of course, meant _was it combat?_

Nicole laughed. “No, no, no, wasn’t anything like that. It was a rockclimbing accident, of all things. I did a major number on my shoulder.” Her eyes sparked, a sharp memory, but it went unsaid. Then her face softened and she said with a sigh, “The surgery and the PT got me most of the way back to where I was before, but it was a whole lot of not-fun getting there, let me tell you.”

“I bet,” said Waverly. “Sounds like quite a story.”

“Yeah, and a lot of it is kind of dumb.” Another sip of her martini, then Nicole said, “So, what about you? Can I ask the obvious question?”

“Sure,” said Waverly, wondering what the ‘obvious’ question was. She could think of a few herself, like _what is happening_ and _why do you smell so nice_ and _I kind of sort of wonder what it would be like to kiss you._

Nicole leaned forward slightly. “‘Earp’, as in, the guy at the O.K. Corral? Are you related to him?”

“Oh,” said Waverly. “Yeah. Direct descendant. He was my great-great-grandfather.”

“Wow. That’s a trip,” said Nicole.

“Yeah, the curse of a famous last name. I get asked that a lot,” said Waverly, finishing her drink.

The cocktail waitress came by again not much longer after that, and Nicole asked, nodding at her empty glass, “Would you like another, or do you want to go eat?”

“Both, I think,” replied Waverly. She turned to the waitress, asking, “We’ll have another round, but we’re moving to the dining room, could you bring them in there?” She saw Nicole discreetly check her watch before nodding her agreement, but they’d both already calculated when all alcohol must cease to be well within the airline’s bottle-to-throttle regulations, and they were still hours away from cutoff time.

The waitress replied, “Of course. That was an old-fashioned and a dirty martini, right?” as she collected the empty glasses, which Waverly confirmed.

After they’d gotten seated in the restaurant, fresh drinks brought to them, and their orders placed (Waverly had, indeed, opted for a ginormous green salad) Nicole focused her attention once more on Waverly, turning on that brilliant smile. “And how long have _you_ been flying with the company?”

“It’ll be three years next month,” replied Waverly, thinking that Nicole’s dimple was mere millimeters short of being a deadly weapon. “I applied as soon as I met the age requirement. Chrissy and I went through the school together, actually. We were friends growing up.”

Nicole nodded. “Yeah, I remember having a conversation with her about it, one time. She said that you helped her out a lot.”

“She helped me, too,” said Waverly. “The thing about that training, it’s short but it’s intense. Well, maybe not compared to what you guys have to do, but they demand a lot. It was kind of huge to have a friend there with me, to get through some of the days.”

It was so nice to be sitting there having dinner with Nicole. Nice to be making idle chit chat with someone who didn’t need the oddities of working for the airline industry explained to them. Nice to talk to someone with whom she could volley stories back and forth about flying, the good days and the bad days and the strange days, and who didn’t judge or ask her how she could stand doing it. Waverly enjoyed every bit of that meal and the easy conversation, and god _damn_ if Nicole didn’t look cute when the corner of her mouth twisted up in a little crooked smile.

“I still enjoy it so much, going to keep doing it,” said Waverly with a shrug, as the topic drifted to the insane schedule the job demanded from them, “even if the hours chase most people away. It’s totally not a bad life when you’re footloose and fancy-free.”

Nicole gave a sly little grin. “Well, I wasn’t going to ask, but since you brought it up …” she trailed off, her eyebrows raised in slight question.

Waverly laughed, as much that the interest showing in Nicole’s face came cloaked as a lighthearted comedic query, as for her own unsubtle way of asserting her status. “Yes, I’m a happily single Virgo with hair for days,” she said, with an extravagant hair flip. She began telling the story of her high school sweetheart, Champ, and how the relationship had sputtered and died once she’d started flying. “I mean, he was nice enough, I suppose. But he was also pretty small-town. Once I was away all the time, he started to get jealous and a little clingy and all those things they warn you about but you think won’t happen to you.” She paused, her mouth setting in a firm line as she took a deep breath. “He went back to Purgatory, the little town we grew up in, and I … ended up here.” She stared at the bottom of her now-empty drink glass.

“I’m sorry,” said Nicole, gently. Her long fingers stilled from where they had been fidgeting slightly, refolding her napkin, tracing along the edge of the crease she'd made.

“I’m not,” said Waverly. “It didn’t take me long to figure out I deserved better than some half-assed relationship with an unsupportive boy-man.”

“Boy-man, yep, I’ve been there.” Nicole chuckled. “They’re the worst.”

Waverly looked up to see Nicole’s warm eyes, and brightened, throwing off the tiny bit of melancholy. “Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

Nicole smiled, wide. She looked positively impish as she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth, and she teased, “If I buy you another drink, what else will you tell me?”

Waverly wasn’t drunk by any means - maybe feeling a bit bold, that was all. She teased back, “Not on the first date, Nicole.”

“Oh, this isn’t our first date,” said Nicole, all silky voice and smug little grin. “If this was our first date I would have picked something more romantic. This,” she said, waving her hand, a vague gesture that encompassed the entire room and dismissed it all at once, “is nice but a bit too impersonal for my taste. I would have taken us somewhere with real candles at a minimum. Just sayin’.”

Waverly tried to sound skeptical. “Oh, really.” Embarrassingly, it came out more like a squeak.

“You bet,” said Nicole, amused. “No one will ever say that Nicole Haught doesn’t know how to treat a woman right.” Then she laughed at her own joke, a loud choppy laugh that Waverly couldn’t help but join.

*****

Once dinner was over and they were headed up to their rooms for the night, Nicole walked Waverly to her door. It was the kind of chivalrous bullshit that usually drove Waverly right up the wall when one of the guys did it, but this was different, somehow. She put up a little protest anyway. “You don’t have to do this, Nicole.”

“Pssh, I am _on the same floor,_ this is barely out of my way,” said Nicole. “I just wanted to say thank you for having dinner with me tonight. I enjoyed it.”

“Me, too,” said Waverly. They’d reached her room; Waverly pulled out her keycard and unlocked the door. “Thank you. See you tomorrow, hey?”

Nicole smiled. “Yep. Sleep well. And Waverly?” Waverly looked up to see that lovely face turned toward hers. “I do hope we get a chance to fly together again, soon, ‘cause I think you still owe me that good cup of coffee. Some other time.”

Waverly just stood there smiling back, reluctant to shut the door.

“I mean it,” Nicole said, turning back with one last dazzling grin, before she started to walk away, slinging her jacket over her shoulder. Waverly watched her saunter down the corridor for several long seconds.

As she finally closed the door, the clunk of the latch breaking whatever small spell she’d been caught in, she gave herself a slight shake of the head. _Wow, that was interesting,_ Waverly thought, as she started her routine to prepare for her workday tomorrow. The redheaded pilot had certainly been likeable, charming even, and Waverly found herself thinking about their conversation and how pleasant the evening had been. It even felt like she was a little bit excited at the prospect of seeing that gorgeous dimpled grin in the morning.

Home, she thought. Mostly she was excited about going home, that must be it. _Of course._


	3. How ’Bout You Buy Me That Cup Of Coffee

It was about two, two and a half weeks after the trip where they’d had dinner together before Waverly saw Nicole again.

Waverly had been on layover, in Ottawa overnight, with three days left on the current trip. She had been working with a couple of older flight attendants this time around; this particular assignment meant she was in the junior position, which was alright, but she was feeling a twinge of missing being with Chrissy. The smaller jets she liked to work, with only three attendants aboard, meant everyone had to maintain a smooth professional relationship or things could go to hell in a handbasket pretty quickly. Waverly prided herself on getting along with _everybody_ but the senior on this crew, Jeannie was her name, had just a bit too much of a HBIC vibe for Waverly’s comfort. So, even though she was unfailingly polite, Waverly was mostly keeping to herself this trip, and keeping the peace.

Their time for pickup arrived, and the heels of their shoes made a loud _click, click, click_ as Waverly and her crewmates went walking through the empty hotel lobby. They were quiet otherwise. Not a lot of chatter yet, because today _was_ one of those truly egregious early calls, where they were up and off to work long before sunup, to serve a bunch of bleary-eyed businesspeople on the first flight out of the day.

The crew van was pulled to one side of the portico, waiting for them. Waverly went to the back of the van, to hand off her bag to the waiting driver, with a small smile and a murmured ‘thank you, Carl.’ Then she walked around to the side, reaching to open the door, when someone else beat her to it, and she heard a quiet, sweet voice saying, “There you go.”

Waverly spun around and took a step back, a little bit startled, because Nicole was suddenly just _there,_ like she had materialized out of thin air. What was she, some kind of _magical creature?_ After a moment, Waverly huffed out a small breath, steadying herself. “Oh, hello, Captain! Good morning.” She looked down and caught a glimpse of Nicole’s sleeve, saying “oh.” It was three stripes.

Nicole followed where her eyes had fallen, to the rank she was wearing, and gave a muted laugh. “Yeah, I’m sitting in the other chair this week, Dolls is captain.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone, and said, “He generally doesn’t admit it but he doesn’t mind taking turns.”

For whatever reason this struck Waverly as _really_ funny, but she managed to swallow her guffaw down to a small immoderate snort of laughter as she saw Dolls approaching. She kept herself from snickering as she said, “Mm hmm, and how is _that_ working for you?”

Nicole’s answer came low and amused; she looked to be fighting laughter as well and her eyes sparkled with merriment, but she spoke in a flattened drawl. “Well. We’re both qualified for command and we both need the flight hours, so it works. I don’t make him do extra paperwork and he doesn’t make me salute him.”

“Not a joke, Haught,” said Dolls, coming up behind them. “Good morning,” he added, nodding in Waverly’s direction. Waverly caught the look that passed between them, instantly reading it - a little good-natured ribbing that followed a well-worn track they’d established, a disguise for the professional respect they held for each other.

Brightening, she smiled up at Nicole. “Are we on your flight today?”

Nicole pursed her lips. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “1872, through to Halifax?” She removed her cover as she climbed up into the van, holding it in her lap. Waverly took the seat next to her. It was a full ride to the airport this morning, several crews all mixed together, but fortunately it was one of those extra-large shuttles.

Waverly said, “No, I guess not, then. We’re ending in Montréal.”

They chatted about nothing in particular on the way to the airport - where they’d flown in from, how many days until their next day off, the weather. Waverly tried to study Nicole without being too obvious about it. Something about that gorgeous face, those high cheekbones and elegant column of neck, the expressive eyes and of course that devastating smile, made Waverly want to look, and look some more. She was pretty sure Nicole caught her doing it, too, and they had both glanced away shyly and Waverly felt her cheeks tinge with red, but that didn’t stop her from looking again. And again.

They didn’t part ways until after they reached the crew lounge. There, Nicole had removed her jacket, hanging it on one of the caddies, was giving it a going-over with a lint brush, all the while carrying on her end of the conversation. Waverly thought Nicole’s uniform already looked impeccable, but she also knew that many (if not most) air workers were fastidious about their appearance; she’d spent over twenty minutes last night inspecting her own uniform with just as much careful attention to detail. Since she actually had a couple of minutes to kill this morning, she lingered nearby, chatting and keeping Nicole company, until Dolls appeared at her elbow, saying, “It’s time.”

“Okay,” said Nicole. She lifted her perfect jacket off the form and slipped it on. Tucking her hat under her elbow, she turned slightly and said, “I hope you have a lovely day, Waverly. See you ‘round.” Then, she was following after Dolls, disappearing into the briefing room. Waverly smiled. She knew some of the cabin crew working on Nicole’s flight, and they happened to be short, maybe even shorter than she was, and it was a funny image to see them gathered, with Nicole’s fiery red and Doll’s close-cropped dark heads riding herd above the others.

*****

A week later, they ended up working together again. The day’s route had started with a couple of shorter legs, and ended with a longer flight, westbound from Toronto to Edmonton and then on to Vancouver, a decently long day of scheduled flight time. Nicole, who was sitting on the captain’s side of the cockpit again for this flight, had been teasing Waverly when they were on the ground between legs, trying to get her to wager if she could cut time off the schedule.

“C’mon, Waverly,” she said sweetly. “What’s it’s worth to you if I get us there ten minutes early?” Nicole’s eyes were merry, and the way the corner of her mouth twisted up in that little half-smile, well, that made Waverly smile in return. “Ten minutes, c’mon, that’s gotta be worth a loonie.”

“Nuh uh,” Waverly teased back. _“You’re_ loony if you think I would take that bet.” Waverly knew that flight speed (as well as _every other detail of operating the aircraft)_ was at the captain’s discretion, and that it was routine to shave time off of flights, as long as the tower could get them into the pattern. She raised an eyebrow. “What, do I look like a rookie to you?”

“No,” said Nicole, her voice gone a little softer. Her caramel eyes dropped slightly, came back up to Waverly’s. “No, you don’t look like a rookie at all.”

The copilot for the day, a large, loud man named Hansen, bulled his way back into the cockpit just then, laughingly complaining that they must have reduced the size of the lavs. Waverly excused herself, the space suddenly seeming too small for three people. She caught Nicole’s tiny wry smile as she left, and a hint of an eye roll, and a look that maybe, just maybe said _sorry about that._ Passengers were coming on in a minute; she put it out of her mind.

The leg out of Toronto had been a decent flight, but full, almost every seat occupied. Waverly didn’t mind. Even though it was packed, the longer flight time meant the service wasn’t one great rush, rush, rush; the cabin crew would be able to get drinks and snacks to everyone without immediately having to pick up afterward. There’d be time to relax, as much as there ever was midflight. That is, until it got a little bumpy.

The _bing, bing_ tone let her know the flight deck was calling. Waverly picked up the handset by the front galley, and Nicole was on the other end, her voice clipped and professional. “Just received an update, we’re coming into significant rough air, everyone needs to be seated. Crew needs to be strapped in as well.”

“Yes, Captain,” Waverly said, and disconnected the comm. The two-note tone followed, letting the crew know they needed to secure the cabin, making Waverly think that if they were sounding the get-belted alert that quickly from the cockpit, they were facing bigger than average turbulence. Chrissy looked up and, catching her eye and her curt nod, brought the service cart back in a hurry and got it stowed. Meanwhile, Waverly waited for the _ding_ of the seat belt light coming on. It sounded a few seconds later, and she picked up the handset and opened the cabin’s public address.

_Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign…_

She paused a moment after completing the little rote speech, then keyed up the handset again, and repeated it in French.

The weather wasn’t anything out of the ordinary over the great flat plains in the middle of the country. The massive thunderheads that built up in the afternoons, so picturesque and dramatic when viewed from the ground and from a distance, were sometimes too big to fly over or around. Pilots would try to find the best path through, a guessing game aided by weather info relayed from ground stations, adjusting course as needed while great updrafts and downdrafts would toss them about like a cork in the ocean. The aircraft, of course, was built to take it. The danger lay in unsecured items, or unbelted passengers, getting thrown around the cabin.

There was one passenger, in row 12, who chose this moment to get his jacket out of the overhead, even though the plane had already started to rattle and bounce. Waverly sighed - there was _always_ one passenger, it was like a _rule_ or something - and Chrissy, who was getting ready to belt in on the second front jump seat, lifted an eyebrow. “Want me to?” she said.

“No, I got it,” said Waverly, jumping up and making her way down the aisle. “Sir, please, s'il vous plaît, asseyez-vous! I need you to take your seat,” she said with some urgency, and the guy understood, at least, that she wasn’t joking around. Mumbling _sorry,_ he quickly closed up the overhead and got fastened in. “Thank you,” said Waverly with her fakest smile, a sign of her displeasure, and now when she made her way up to the front, she had to balance with her hands curling across the top of the seatbacks, to keep from staggering as the plane jolted under and around her. She finally relaxed a bit when she got up front, seated and secured again.

The biggest rough patch lasted for quite a while, making Waverly wonder how large the storm cells were, and how many were they, and if there were any tornados on the ground. The passengers, unaccustomed, had begun to murmur and mutter in that peculiar way they had, and when the plane would shudder with a loud thump, or drop violently, yelps and gasps and cries would swirl through the cabin. Fright. Her people were getting frightened, and while Waverly could smile and speak to and reassure the first couple of rows of passengers she had in her eyeline, she could do nothing for most of them, could only ride it out along with everyone else. The nervous tension built, until finally - a sliver of smooth air, and a warm voice coming over the speakers.

_Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. We’re experiencing some fairly typical turbulence here over western Saskatchewan, it will continue a few more minutes before we’re out of it and we should have a smooth flight the rest of the way into Edmonton. We’ll begin our descent in about forty minutes, in the meantime, we’d like you to please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened. Cabin crew, please secure the cabin and take your seats._

Waverly smiled at Nicole’s calm voice coming over the PA, working its magic on the passengers, who did seem to settle down some. Chrissy caught her eye - she was grinning, the way she usually did when there was major turbulence, drawing a small laugh from Waverly. “You love this,” she said, leaning close to Chrissy.

Chrissy nodded. “Yep. Better than any rollercoaster.”

There were a few more really good jolts (one passenger yelled ‘hallelujah!’ quite loudly at the largest one, causing a smattering of laughter in the cabin) before they got out of the line of thunderheads, but they arrived into Edmonton without any further incident and Nicole put the aircraft down smooth as silk. Ten minutes early.

*****

Everyone had turned the offer down that evening, except for Waverly, who accepted Nicole’s invite to get drinks in the hotel bar. There had been a gate delay at their final stop of the day, and they’d sat cooling their heels on the Vancouver tarmac for eighteen minutes, waiting for another plane to push back and free up the gate. Once they’d finally deplaned and gotten transferred to the hotel, Waverly was ready for a cocktail to chase away any remaining crankiness from the day.

Seated next to each other at a small high-top, sipping the drinks they’d just been served, Waverly took the moment to study Nicole. Again, she was dressed neatly in casual clothing, this time in a blue shirt with a tiny polka-dot pattern, her hair taken out of the braid and tied back in a low ponytail. She wore a single ring on her right hand, a modest blue stone on her middle finger, and nothing on her left hand. Waverly couldn’t stop looking at Nicole’s hands, the way those elegant long fingers played with the glass, how she picked up the tumbler and swirled the ice, slowly, slowly. Nicole had ordered bourbon, rocks, which Waverly thought was mildly interesting - she wasn’t one of those people who always had the same drink. Waverly smiled a secret little smile, approving of this tiny indication of an adventurous streak.

“So,” Nicole started, the opening conversational gambit. “Sorry about the rough ride today.”

“I hardly think that was your fault,” said Waverly, lifting her eyebrows.

“Eh,” shrugged Nicole. “It got worse after we got through, we heard they had to divert for a little while from Saskatoon.”

“Far from the worst I’ve ever been in,” said Waverly. “I was on a flight out of Thunder Bay…”

And they were off. Even if it was a bit predictable, trite even, it was easy to fall into the common pattern of Let Me Tell You About The Turbulence This One Time. It was a thing that everybody had lots of bullshit stories about, and if Waverly knew one thing, it was that sitting in a bar with pilots inevitably leads to the telling of bullshit stories. _At least Nicole tells interesting ones,_ she thought.

She drifted a bit as they talked, lulled by the easy conversation at the end of the workday, and the warm mellow buzz of the alcohol. Her eyes returned again and again to Nicole’s hands, still swirling the dregs of her drink around in the glass, and the play of the muscles in her forearm as she did so. It was kind of hypnotic.

Plus, Nicole had such a pleasant voice, it was easy to listen to her spin yarn after yarn about how weather had a way of messing up the most meticulous of plans, a topic that was the common currency of anyone who had ever worked in the commercial flight industry. Waverly blinked her eyes, focused back in on what Nicole was saying.

“…and then they redirected us to Grande Prairie, of all places.” Nicole was finishing a story about crosswinds that just wouldn’t die down at one of the main hub airports.

Waverly dragged her eyes away from Nicole’s hands and back up to her face, a good choice; Nicole was smiling that satisfied little half-smile that hinted at the dimple, and Waverly felt warm. “Whaat?” she said. “That bites. That airport, I don’t know, never particularly liked it. They don’t have much there.”

Nicole, nodded, amused. “Yeah. Yeah, but you know how it is, the weather that time of year.” She paused. “Some days you’re just glad to put it down safe. Didn’t even bounce it,” she said, with a smug little grin over the rim of her cocktail. She paused, a small furrow of concern coming across her brow. “Hey, uh. Waves.”

Waverly realised she’s been leaning in, her body swaying toward Nicole, halfway to mesmerized. _Oh, wait._ What was happening?

“You okay there?” asked Nicole, her voice soft.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Waverly. “I’m fine,” she lied, because she had missed _fine_ by a large margin and had landed firmly on _kind of embarrassed._ “Maybe just a little tired. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Ah, okay,” said Nicole, finishing her drink. “Well, goodnight then, Waverly.”

*****

After that trip, Waverly found herself thinking about Nicole more and more, though if her brain ever started to wander close to wondering why, she managed to distract herself with other topics and swerve away from the idea altogether. She did begin checking the flight rosters more carefully, looking at the names of the pilots on the next day’s flight, telling herself it was just common politeness to learn the captain’s name in advance, Meschner or Roubideaux or Snyder or Clark. And the day eventually came, when she checked the sheet and saw: Haught, Nicole.

Waverly was heading home; it was her last day on the rotation, and she was looking forward to several days off. Nicole was already in the briefing room when she arrived at the airport early, and she greeted the redhead happily. “Good morning, Captain, I think today is my lucky day! I get to hitch a ride with you then sleep in my own bed tonight,” she said with a wink.

“Tell me about it,” said Nicole, with her own bright smile. “Always good to be goin’ home. I am looking forward to some days off, I think I have over a week coming.”

Waverly did a double-take. “Uh, home?” she said. “Why did I think you were based out of Toronto?”

“Nope,” said Nicole. “I’ve been flying out of Calgary for a couple of months now. I really do like Alberta, at least the time I get to spend there. It’s probably where I’ll settle long term.”

Maybe it was the good mood that made Waverly so bold. “Well,” she said, “since we’ll both be off and both be in the same city, make sure you give me your number, and we’ll go out for that coffee.” It felt a little bit like throwing caution to the wind, and she wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into her to just blurt it out like that, but Nicole dipped her head and murmured, _sure, you bet,_ and they both smiled at each other even though the heat in the tips of her ears told Waverly that she was blushing just a little.

The briefing began shortly after that, the crew going over details and conditions to expect. Then, they walked out to the concourse, boarded, and the day got underway, a busy, routine day. There was a basketball team on board for one leg of the trip, rowdy but good-natured, and Waverly thought they were sweet boys and wished them luck in their tournament, telling them she would be cheering them on. Later, she got into a slightly longer conversation with a young woman who had a sketchpad on her knee, drawing a few quick pencil studies. Turns out she was on her way to Banff, to spend a few weeks making art. Waverly, catching her enthusiasm, told her about the beauty of the mountains there. “You’re going to love it,” she said warmly, “I hope you make something _amazing._ ”

At last, they reached their terminating stop of the day, and home. With the plane drawn up to the gate at Calgary, Waverly was in high spirits, her long stretch of days off so close she could just about taste it. She was stationed in the front saying the goodbyes to the passengers filing off the aircraft, and she heard the cockpit door open, then felt someone - Nicole - standing behind her and sliding a business card into the mostly-decorative front pocket of her uniform blouse, and a whisper of “call me Tuesday, how ’bout you buy me that cup of coffee” buzzing into her ear. She halfway wheeled around, wide-eyed, but Nicole was already concentrating on the deplaning passengers, saying sweetly, “Thank you. Thank you for flying with us today,” as she nodded and touched the bill of her cap, and the only thought Waverly could find running through her brain was, _damn, is there anything that woman does that doesn’t look sexy._

Holy shit. It took Waverly what felt like long seconds to recover her poise, and as she focused back on the passengers, Nicole ducked back into the cockpit, to resume her post-flight duties. Waverly smiled and nodded and mouthed the words to the exiting passengers, _au revoir, goodbye, thank you, merci,_ but her mind was racing and she imagined she could feel that business card in her pocket, just sitting there burning like the best secret in the world. It felt a little bit confusing and a lot giddy, and even though Waverly wasn’t quite sure what was going on between her and Nicole, she had a feeling she would be finding out more, soon.

She took a quick look back into the cockpit, her glance met by warm brown eyes and a dazzling smile, before they both looked away again.

Even better, Waverly thought, she was pretty sure she was going to _enjoy_ finding out.


	4. When I See Something I Like

One of the odd things Waverly had discovered about herself, once she’d started working as a flight attendant, was that she really _could_ sleep all frickin’ day, under the right conditions. And ‘the right conditions’ usually meant coming off a multi-day trip.

Because the multi-day trips could be a little wearing, no lie. It was just the nature of the job, and how things were scheduled. A typical day for a flight attendant was twelve or fourteen hours long, sometimes longer, could start early or late, might be one long flight or several short hops strung together. The day almost never ended in the same place it started, which meant there’d be a hotel stay. The airline was required to give its employees a minimum amount of time before the next work shift, but the quick layovers meant there was _only_ time to sleep, and grab a quick bite from whatever food supplies everyone seemed to haul around in oversized lunch bags. Longer layovers meant the luxury of a whole seven or eight hours of sleep, and maybe an ordinary meal, and maybe even a little time to relax.

Those long working days, which usually got strung together as three- or four- or five-day trips, also meant that a flight attendant would only work ten to fourteen days every month. That was how the schedule worked. It played hell on Waverly her first month or two on the job, but once she’d adjusted, she grew to love having as many free days as she did. She just knew that, the day after she came off of a long trip, she’d spend a lot it sleeping.

So, on Monday, Waverly slept. She’d arrived home the night before, left a note for her roommates that she was home and sleeping and could they please keep any noise down (she shared an apartment with two other flight attendants, and they were all scrupulously courteous about not interrupting each other’s sleep) and then she’d turned off her phone, drew the blackout drapes in her bedroom, got into her comfiest jammies, crawled under her four blankets, and sacked out. By the time she woke, it was afternoon and she was feeling less wrung out and pretty normal again.

The rest of the day was spent doing ordinary things: a trip to the grocery, sorting through her mail, and the like. Waverly had a whole week off and as she squared away her chores, she looked forward to her days and happily thought of the many things she could do with them.

*****

Tuesday morning dawned bright and clear. Waverly was up early, catching up for a bit with one of the roommates who was home but heading out the door, and enjoying the luxury of her own kitchen to make her own breakfast. Now, she lingered over a second cup of tea. The business card Nicole had slipped in her pocket sat on the table in front of her, the innocent scrap of cardstock feeling just a tiny bit like a dare. _Call me,_ Nicole murmured again and again in Waverly’s memory, the voice sweet and sweeter in recollection. She traced the edges of the card, turned it over and over, ran her fingertips over the barely embossed typeface on the front, the slight dent of the ballpoint pen on the back where Nicole had scribbled her phone number, the digits canted at a strong angle like they had important places to go.

Waverly vacillated between telling herself she was making a mountain out of a molehill, and trying to muster up the courage to just call. It felt a little weighty, truth be told. Like, the no-big-deal coffee-date aspect of it came crashing up against the fact that she’d never been on a date with a woman, an honest-to-goodness date, and while Waverly considered herself open-minded, and had tried to throw off her small-town upbringing as best she could, her brain kept running to the notion that this was wholly new and different. Well, different for _her,_ it wasn’t different for Nicole, of course, and why should it even be different anyway, besides the obvious and she wasn’t thinking about _that_ or maybe she was just a teensy bit. Her mind had traveled these muddled circles for much of the morning. There was also the fact that she was quite curious about the idea (and, really, she thought, nobody’s business if she wanted to _go on a gay date_ anyway and shut up, brain) to a degree that surprised her, which wasn’t a thing that bore close examination right this moment, so she set that aside for later.

In the end, it was the thought that she’d halfway promised Nicole a cappuccino, even if it was part of a teasing conversation, which was the thing that finally did it for her - she couldn’t go back on her word, after all. Waverly reached for her phone. Nicole picked up on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Uh, hi, Nicole? This is Waverly. Waverly Earp.” Waverly squeezed her eyes shut, wondering at the high-pitched nervousness in her voice and whether it would be audible over the phone.

“Ah, Waverly! I’m so glad you called.” Nicole’s voice warmed. “How are you doing? What can I do for you?”

_Here goes,_ Waverly thought. “I’m great, thanks. I’m calling to see if you’d still like to go out for that cup of coffee today.”

“I’d really like that,” said Nicole, as Waverly imagined the way the dimple on her cheek blossomed when she smiled wide, the picture clear as crystal in her mind. It was really kind of attractive, the most genuine smile Waverly thought she’d ever seen.

They agreed to meet around 1:00, and Waverly gave Nicole the location of her favorite coffee place, and then with a cheery ‘see you later’ they ended the call. Waverly sat smiling at her phone for a moment, before the _oh, crap_ thought snuck in and made noise. She hadn’t even _started_ to figure out what she was going to wear.

*****

Waverly spotted Nicole’s red hair from a distance, half a block away as she came walking up the street. Super on-time, too. Which made perfect sense, thought Waverly, knowing what she knew about Nicole Haught. As she got closer, Waverly could see Nicole searching, her head turning, trying to locate her. The street and the small plaza were still busy with the lunchtime crowd.

Waverly stood from the bench where she’d been sitting, adjacent to the coffee store, and waved to catch her attention. She could see the smile that broke across Nicole’s face when she spotted her; the smile remained as Nicole closed the distance and greeted her. “Hey, Waverly.”

“Hi there.” Waverly had a moment of confusion - were they going to hug? should they hug? were they the kind of work friends that hug? - before the moment passed, and they didn’t. “I see you found the place.”

“No problem at all,” said Nicole. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Nope,” said Waverly, even though she’d been there long enough to just begin to fidget, and had resorted to a few yoga breaths to keep her composure. She shouldered her bag, and she and Nicole walked into the shop. “I hope you like this place, it’s one of my favorite spots in the summer. They make great blended drinks, or whatever fancy type of coffee you like.”

“What are you going to get?” Nicole looked at her, head tilted like a mildly curious puppy, which Waverly found unexpectedly adorable.

“I usually get tea, or a chai latte, or iced chai. I don’t drink coffee that often,” confessed Waverly. She’d been intending to cut down on her caffeine in the last year or so, actually, but hadn’t been able to give up her tea, and the comfort of the ritual of brewing it in the morning.

Nicole laughed, low and warm. “You invite me to a coffee place and you don’t drink coffee - I’m seeing a small problem in the logic here,” she teased.

Waverly grinned and shot back, “It’s more of a coffee _And Tea_ sort of place. And besides, they make a pretty good juice here, too, if that’s more your thing.”

“Oh, sure,” said Nicole, “all of it’s my thing, but I think I am going to get that cappuccino you’ve been talking about.”

They’d reached the head of the line, and made their orders. Nicole tried to pull out her wallet; Waverly tried to stop her. “No, I got this.”

“C’mon, Waverly, you don’t have to do that. I was pretty much joking about that part. About you having to buy for me,” said Nicole.

“Well, too late now. I’m buying, and then next time we can negotiate,” said Waverly, perfectly aware of the implication of the _next time_ that she had just dropped. A gladness crept into her chest at the words, rosy as the first sliver of dawn light spilling up over the horizon, growing wide and plain all in a hurry - yes, that was how it felt, happy, and a little bit warm. “So put that away,” she continued, nodding at Nicole’s wallet. Nicole gave up, acquiescing gracefully, with a murmured _thank you._

A couple minutes later, their drinks were ready. As they collected them at the counter, Nicole turned to Waverly, asking, “Where?”

“We can sit in here,” said Waverly, “or they have some tables outside, or we can walk around a little bit.”

“It’s such a nice day,” said Nicole. “I think outside, for sure.”

Waverly agreed, and then Nicole was holding the door open for her, with that effortless courtesy she always seemed to radiate. Waverly smiled her thanks, thinking (again) that Nicole was the sort of person that had some hidden complexities to her. Still waters, and all that. Not for the first time, Waverly found herself studying Nicole, wondering what it would take to ruffle that calm.

Nicole had turned her face skyward, scanning the weather, which made Waverly curious if it was just a habit or a by-product of her job. She looked back down at Waverly, and asked, “Can we walk?”

“Yeah. The bridge to the park is right up there,” and Waverly gestured with her cup, “or it’s not too far to get to Olympic Plaza, if we go down that way.”

“Oh, the park. I don’t get there nearly often enough,” said Nicole, so they strolled toward the river, and the pedestrian bridge.

Prince’s Island Park, set on an island on a bend of the Bow River, was busy the way it usually was on any sunny day. Waverly and Nicole walked through the main section, skirting around the plaza near the café, looking for a quieter place to sit. Waverly spotted a bench along one of the walkways that overlooked the river. “How about over there?” she asked.

“Sure. I’ll follow you anywhere,” said Nicole, with a wink. “What’s up with today? There’s usually more buskers around,” she added, sipping her coffee.

“I think that may be more of a weekend thing,” said Waverly, “or maybe later on in the day. Right now it’s mostly kids here, I think.” She turned a bit to face Nicole. The bright sun, high overhead, was throwing highlights into her red hair, tendrils that had escaped the high ponytail she was wearing and were cascading along the arc of her neck, brushing against her shoulders. Paired with the casual outfit she wore, a green vest over a white long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans and sneakers, Nicole looked a lot looser, happier and more relaxed than when Waverly saw her on layovers. That’s what came tumbling out of her mouth. “You look relaxed. Well-rested.”

“I think I slept half the day yesterday,” said Nicole with a chuckle.

“God, me too,” said Waverly. “The schedule this month wasn’t very kind to me, I got a couple of long trips pretty close together, but now I have a nice chunk of days off.” As Nicole nodded her sympathetic agreement, she continued, “I have to get with Chrissy, we need to put in our bids soon, and we’re trying to get assigned together when we can. We’re trying to get Jeremy with us, too, so the three of us can work together.”

“Yeah,” said Nicole, “Dolls and I do that, too, we try to get paired up on the schedule, he’s a great guy to fly with. Steady. We’re both kinda low on the priority we don’t even bother to bid on the popular routes, but we can usually get some of the mid-sized airports on some of the planes that not everyone and their brother wants to fly, so.” She paused. “We make it work.”

Waverly, both curious and a little teasing, asked, “You know how to fly all the planes?”

Nicole gave an expansive shrug, like she was a badass skyjockey who could pilot any damn plane she pleased but was being modest about it. “Yeah, pretty much.” The grin was back, with the full dimple. “Flying is flying. I mean, that’s what you do in the Forces.”

“You were a fighter pilot?” asked Waverly, a little bit awed.

“Oh, heavens no,” laughed Nicole. “That’s the first thing everyone thinks when you say you’re a pilot, but no. I flew transport. I liked it better - small, medium, or large hauls, I could be on the stick. Never a shortage of places to go.”

“What made you decide to do that?” Waverly eyed Nicole. She was gazing, unfocused, across the river, pensive but not unhappy.

“To join?” asked Nicole, her eyes flicking downward for a moment.

“To be a pilot,” said Waverly.

“Oh,” Nicole chuckled, “I was one of those kids who was, ‘I want to be a pilot when I grow up,’ because it sounded cool. And then I grew up and it never stopped sounding cool, so here I am.” She turned her head, and Waverly once again had the strange sensation of brown eyes searching into hers with uncommon intensity. Like, something being communicated in a language she did not yet know. 

“Are you glad you did?” Waverly asked softly. The moment hung, and Waverly was just about ready to kick herself, because she’d meant to ask an innocuous question but somehow this loaded one had popped out of her mouth and why the _hell_ was she still feeling this … uncertainty? Like she didn’t have her bearings at all, like she’d gotten hopelessly turned around and a bit dizzied, a schoolyard game of blind man’s bluff with only Nicole’s easy voice to lead her.

“Yeah,” said Nicole, after a long pause. “I am. It’s led to a whole bunch of good things in my life. I mean, I got to meet you, after all,” she added, turning the full force of that charming smile back on, leaving Waverly to sort out the jumble of confusion mixed with a few butterflies and wow, it was a lot. A good kind of lot, to be sure.

“Flatterer,” grinned Waverly, pretending to look a bit shocked but secretly pleased at Nicole’s forwardness.

“Sorry, but it’s true,” said Nicole, “and besides, it's just how I am. I wanted to fly, and it was probably the quickest way to get there. When I see something I like, I don’t want to wait.” She grinned. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be talking about myself the whole time.”

“That’s okay,” said Waverly. “I like hanging out talking with you.”

“Good,” smiled Nicole, with a little head dip. “I like it, too.” She turned her face back toward the river, as did Waverly, but not before letting her eyes linger over that elegant profile, the curve of the smile crossing Nicole’s lips, and the cascade of brilliant red hair, coppery fire shot through with gold in the sun, one more time.

They ended up spending almost two hours in the park, just talking, watching the various people who passed by, kids on bicycles or skateboards, adults walking along the riverwalk. It felt good, enjoying the sunny day and the warm clear weather. Waverly found herself sketching the details of her own life to Nicole, in broad strokes, things she didn’t easily share with anyone who hadn’t known her for years. How she’d been orphaned young and raised by her Aunt Gus after losing her father and eldest sister in an accident, how her remaining sister ran to wild rebellion and was gallivanting around Europe (last she’d heard, anyway) with her middle finger raised to life in general, how she’d longed for getting out of the small town she grew up in and more importantly, getting away from the people who never looked for anything larger out of their lives. Nicole was a good listener, asking thoughtful questions but giving her room to talk, always attentive.

The realization stole through Waverly’s thoughts, bit by hesitant bit, that what she was feeling was interest. Toward Nicole, and yeah, _that_ kind of interest. That Nicole’s pretty face and kind eyes made her want to reach out with her fingertips and brush them across Nicole’s cheeks, wondering what would follow if she could ever find that bravery within. And yeah. Maybe it was a little confusing, because there were apparently a bunch of questions she’d never thought to ask herself before, yet being around Nicole made those questions grow unimportant, paling in comparison to the warm pleasure in Nicole’s effortless smile.

*****

The afternoon trailed away, and even though Waverly felt like she could spend the entire day with Nicole, it also sort of felt like they’d hit the limit on how long a coffee date could last. They began walking back, Nicole’s leisurely pace reflecting Waverly’s reluctance to end their time spent that day.

Nicole’s hands were stuffed in her pockets as she walked Waverly back to her car. She said, “Thank you for calling me. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Me, too,” said Waverly. She wanted to add something more, something with a little meaning, or anything that didn't come out silly, but was drawing a blank. God, how long had it been since she’d been this awkward? A long time. Maybe never. Not even with Champ.

Nicole said, with that shy little head dip she had, “I hope we can do it again sometime.”

They reached the lot where Waverly had parked, and after she’d unlocked the door to the Jeep, Waverly said, “Well, I’ll see you soon?” with a hopeful lift to her voice. This time, they went for a goodbye hug, a little stiff and mostly only at the shoulders, but also a hug that went on a half-beat longer than normal when neither of them pulled away. Waverly tamped down the strong urge to press her lips to Nicole’s cheek.

It was only later that she realised that Nicole wasn’t parked nearby, and that she didn’t see where she had gone after she’d climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. She’d lost sight of the redhead, who’d given a cheery wave and started walking south, while she was fiddling with her keys.

_Dammit,_ she should have offered her a lift.


	5. I Kind Of Only Just Discovered It

It was still bothering her, obviously, because Waverly was still thinking about it the next morning. _Should have offered a ride. Should have offered._ She sat in her kitchen, stirring her cup of tea, her mind drifting over bits of yesterday’s conversation, the interesting parts and the sweet parts and the goofy giddy parts. The way Nicole had listened, serious and attentive, her long fingers unconsciously tracing the seam of her jeans where she’d crossed her leg over her knee. The way she smiled a crooked little smile when something struck her as amusing. The cant of her strong shoulders. The elegance of her face. The way she had closed her eyes and tilted her chin up to the sun, easy and serene.

_It’s nice, hey? I’m glad you called me,_ she had said. _I need to remember to slow down sometimes. Just sitting here feeling the sun on your face and a breeze from the river. Livin’ in the moment. Sometimes that’s the best thing in the world._

Waverly gave a small shake of her head, bemused. Always, always, she caught herself drifting into this dopey daze, and she marveled at just how starry-eyed she’d become, thinking about the redheaded pilot. Because wow, no way around it, it sure as hell felt like a crush, the way every thought seemed to wander back to Nicole, unbidden. Impulsively, she picked up her phone and tapped out a text message.

[ **Waverly** ]: Sorry, I should have given you a ride yesterday, I didn’t know you’d parked elsewhere

Waverly had dried and put away her breakfast dishes, had finished neatening up the kitchen, before an answer came back. She was lingering over her tea and thinking about her week, and how she and Chrissy and Jeremy planned to get together over the weekend to decide which lines they wanted to bid for next month. She had a few errands she wanted to run today, as well, a couple of things to pick up for the apartment. She needed to email her sister, yeah, that was another thing she needed to remember to do. Thoughts of Nicole (as always) lurked beneath, like koi cruising cool dark waters, momentarily flashing bright as they surfaced before sinking away.

The chime of her phone brought her out of her daydreams, and Waverly’s heart sped just a little when she saw who the message was from.

[ **Nicole** ]: No problem  
[ **Nicole** ]: I took the train down, I live up by the airport  
[ **Nicole** ]: The station was just a couple blocks away

_Oh, well, that makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?_ thought Waverly. Of course Nicole would live on the north side of the city. Waverly might have chosen the same area (close to work, after all) except she had found her current situation through word-of-mouth, a room that had come available when a coworker was transferring to a different hub city and the two other roommates were looking for a third who could take over right away. It had worked out well, everyone got along and Waverly was lucky to be right in the thick of things, fairly close to downtown and all the city offered.

Waverly’s mind went back to wandering, idly curious. What section of town did Nicole live in? Did she have an apartment or a house? What did it look like? Did she have roommates, too?

So. Anyway. Focus, on what she wanted to do today. She’d run by that home furnishing place that was having a sale, maybe pick up some new throw pillows because she couldn’t look at these ratty old ones for _one more minute,_ and see if she could find a new lamp to would work for her bedroom. She could pick up her drycleaning along the way. She grabbed her keys and her purse, headed out the door, but then, as she was ready to start the Jeep, she paused for a long moment, and reached for her phone again.

Waverly thought for a bit, trying to strike the right balance between pleasantly confident and not too forward. She tapped out a text message, erased it, tried again. There it was, that strange uneasy sensation that felt like one part nervous, three parts light as a helium balloon. Maybe she was overthinking this. Weird? Was it weird to ask to see Nicole again so soon? Where should they go? Dinner? A movie? Dinner and a movie? No, that sounded way too … _traditional_ was the word Waverly might have used in the past, but she’d recently encountered the word _heteronormative_ in some of her reading, and that’s the word that now came front and center, with lights flashing and sirens blaring like a game-show surprise jackpot winner. Well, then. Fuck that heteronormative bullshit. Maybe she’d ask, but wait to see where Nicole wanted to go. Perhaps she would offer an option besides the same-old same-old boring default date. Waverly made up her mind.

[ **Waverly** ]: are you free later this week?  
[ **Waverly** ]: I don’t work until late Sunday

[ **Nicole** ]: I’m off for a few more days  
[ **Nicole** ]: Would you like to do something on Friday?

Waverly texted back _yes_ and, laughing at herself, opted to add a smiley face and a unicorn emoji. She had considered hearts instead, but that felt a wee step to far even for this weird crush she’d decided to indulge today.

It took about ten minutes before Nicole texted back.

[ **Nicole** ]: How do you feel about museums?

*****

Waverly thought she’d never been happier.

She thought she’d never been this kind of confused, either.

Because she was sitting on the outdoor patio of the museum’s café with Nicole Haught, who had just leaned close and started to talk in the lovely silk voice she had. It was getting harder and harder to ignore this … whatever it was. And it was getting harder to leave it unnamed, because it felt exactly like _attraction_ if she was being honest with herself, and the pull of Nicole’s kind eyes and gentle smile had looped around her and caught her tight as a calf roper’s lariat. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. And so here Nicole was sitting beside her, all long legs and dimpled smile, drinking white wine on a lazy afternoon, free from work, talking about _things._ Waverly thought her head might just explode, or she could at any moment leap up and turn giddy cartwheels like a sugar-high tween from the lunatic happiness oozing in her veins, and she wasn’t following the conversation _at all._ It probably didn’t help that her eyes kept drifting down to the unbuttoned collar of Nicole’s shirt, and the lovely expanse of skin there.

“I wasn’t expecting to like the photographs as much as I did,” Nicole was saying as Waverly’s focus returned. She was referring to the exhibit they’d just walked through, a collection of mid-nineteenth century glass-plate photos on loan from an American museum in Denver. “What a fascinating collection.”

Waverly just nodded mutely, struck dumb by the chaotic emotions blundering around in her brain, unable to get much beyond _she is so pretty_ and _why did this never occur to me_ and _jeez I have no idea what I am doing._

“I mean,” continued Nicole, “when you see photos from that era, they’re usually American Civil War, right? Soldier portraits, or battlefields, or stuff. So it was neat to see a wider range of subjects, I thought.”

“Gorgeous,” croaked Waverly, studying the line of Nicole’s jaw, wishing she could let her fingertips gently trail across it.

“Yes,” nodded Nicole with enthusiasm, “that one with the young woman and the large bouquet of roses? It was so striking. Something, I don’t know, something _modern_ about it, the composition, I mean. I don’t know enough to describe it better than that, but it sure caught my eye.” She took a sip from her wineglass, smiling softly with recollection.

“Me too,” hummed Waverly, her eyes trailing over the curve of Nicole’s lips. How delicately they arched, and kissed the rim of her glass. “Making me think of a lot of new things.”

“Yeah? Did you learn something new today?” said Nicole, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“I’m trying to learn something new every day,” said Waverly. “About myself. I guess.”

That seemed to catch Nicole’s attention, as she turned toward her and eyed her with frank curiosity. “Well that sounds … interesting.”

“I, uh. I'm not sure I'm really ready to, uh, get into it,” said Waverly, her stomach roiling with indecision. How much should she say? And how should she say it? What was the socially correct way of blurting out _I am pretty sure I really, really like you and I am kind of confused by that fact?_ God, she wasn’t sure of anything any more. “I kind of only just discovered it.”

“Discovered, huh,” said Nicole, looking her over. Then she smiled wide and said, “Care to give me any more hints?”

“Not … not just yet,” sighed Waverly, deflating. Just like that, her nerve had fled, sudden in its disappearance.

Nicole pursed her lips attractively. “Hmm. Discovery. A very good thing.” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the patio before returning to Waverly, and Waverly felt the charge of those warm brown eyes holding hers, the electric thrill of it, a happy hum like a distant beehive on a summer’s day. Nicole went on, “Anyway, here’s to discovery, and I hope it serves you well, Waverly,” she said as she lifted her wine glass.

Waverly lifted hers as well and clinked the rim, saying, “I’ll drink to that.”

Later, after they had parted ways again, Waverly cursed herself a coward - she should have said _something,_ even as Nicole had deftly steered the conversation to other things. She turned the day over and over again in her memory, examining the pieces of it like a puzzle to be solved. The brilliance of that smile. The fluttering warmth in her chest when she’d made a particularly clever comment, a _bon mot_ that drew a chuckle from Nicole. There was meaning there, Waverly was sure, if only she could learn to parse it.

Still, there was doubt. As much as she thought Nicole might return her interest, as much as she thought she’d seen the warm spark she felt mirrored back to her in Nicole’s eyes, how could she be sure? And how come Nicole hadn’t said or done anything to take the lead? Because really, the gay thing was hardly a secret and Nicole had been casually flirting practically from the moment they met and she’d always been easy and gracious about spending time around Waverly, in spite of _all that,_ she hadn’t made one single move toward Waverly that hadn’t been strictly within the bounds of decorum.

Maybe she’d gotten the wrong idea about this whole thing. Maybe Nicole wasn’t interested, after all. Oh jeez, what if that was it - maybe Nicole wasn’t interested, and was just being polite, and was considerate enough to try to keep Waverly from making a complete ass of herself. Waverly groaned, holding her face in her hands. What was she doing? Was this just some kind of farce of a misunderstanding? What was _happening_ to her? 

*****

Chrissy had volunteered her place for the get-together on Saturday, mainly because she had a nice patio deck for sitting. Jeremy had brought fresh-squeezed juice, and Waverly had picked up bagels from the nearby small bakery, which were a bit more expensive but totally worth it. Chrissy was bringing out a tray with fresh coffee, teasing Jeremy about his juice choices, claiming no one in their right mind would pick orange-mango, and Jeremy sniped back good-naturedly about flavoured creamers. Waverly thought, not for the first time, that she _really_ needed to find a nice guy to fix up with Jeremy, because he had to be one of the sweetest guys she had ever met.

Chrissy looked over at Waverly, and said, “What were you up to yesterday? You said you were going out for a while.”

“Nicole and I went to the Glenbow,” said Waverly, shrugging her shoulders. “There was a special exhibit on mid 19th-century photography I wanted to see.”

“You went to the Glenbow Museum with Nicole Haught?” squeaked Chrissy. “I knew it! I knew you liked her.”

“Uh, I guess so,” said Waverly, feeling her ears flame red. Chrissy had known her since they were in first grade, though, and Waverly knew she would not miss how furiously she was blushing, not in a million years. It was bad enough that she’d finally admitted to herself that what she was feeling for the redhead was some kind of blazing kin to attraction, and now she had halfway convinced herself the attraction was only one-way. Jeez.

“Spill it, spill it,” said Chrissy with a giggle.

“There is _nothing_ to tell. Not really,” glared Waverly.

“Wait, did I miss something? You and Nicole are dating now?” said Jeremy.

“No!” exclaimed Waverly. “Well. No. Not really. But we did go out for coffee on Tuesday.”

“And you went to the museum yesterday, I have news for you, that kinda means you’re dating,” said Jeremy. “I am going to think of an _awesome_ ship name for you guys,” he murmured under his breath, mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” added Chrissy. “We don’t make the rules, that’s just how it is.” She narrowed her eyes at Waverly, considering. “Wait, why did she ask you on a museum date?”

Waverly sighed. “It wasn’t a _date-_ date. At least, I don’t know what it was. And I might have mentioned to her that I really like history and stuff.”

Chrissy reached for a bagel. “It was a date-date, don’t tell me otherwise. And girl, you’d better grab hold of that - she’s hella cute _and_ she’s paying attention to the things you’re into. I mean … you like her, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do,” said Waverly. “But … I don’t know if she likes me, though.”

“Wow. Are you for real?” scoffed Chrissy, highly amused. “Signs point to _obviously.”_ When Waverly leveled a sharp look at her, she just gave a wide shrug. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

Waverly muttered, “Well, I’m glad _you’re_ sure about it,” but she had to admit that there was a glimmer of comfort in the fact that Chrissy had seen something there, too. Maybe she wasn’t making it all up in her head.

Jeremy cleared his throat, and said shyly, “I didn’t know that you were, um. That you liked women.”

“I don’t. I didn’t. I mean, I, I, I never have,” Waverly stammered, still embarrassed. “This is all kind of new for me and I haven’t figured it out yet, and guys, let’s talk about something else, please.”

Chrissy laid an encouraging hand on her arm. “Sorry, Waves. Didn’t mean to pry. You know I just want you to be happy.” She turned to Jeremy, who was opening his laptop and shuffling papers, saying, “Okay then, let’s get down to it.” The three of them turned to the ostensible reason for getting together, to figure out and submit their schedule bids for next month.

Jeremy was saying, “Shouldn’t take too long, it’s mostly the same lines that were offered last month,” as Waverly retreated into her own thoughts. Yeah, she should have seen that coming, that she’d get teased by her friends if she started socializing with a coworker. She’d barely dated since her split with Champ and that was _months_ ago, and Chrissy had been telling her she needed to get out there, so of course she’d make a big deal about it now, wouldn’t she?

Waverly’s doubts still gnawed, though, and she slowly realized she was going to have to talk to Nicole about … whatever this was. Even if she had no idea how to begin to ask the question.


	6. What I Want To Do Most In This World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> == please note the rating change ==  
>  

One thing for sure, Waverly knew: she wasn’t going to get Nicole out of her mind any time soon. She had been looking for the right time, the opportunity to speak to Nicole, or maybe she could try to outlast this … infatuation, or whatever it was, but she wasn’t having much luck with either of those. The problem was, she generally wasn’t super duper good at waiting.

Waverly sighed, pulling back the duvet and smoothing the blankets piled up on her bed, getting ready for sleep. She’d been treading the same thoughts over and over again all evening, an endless track. How she could broach the subject with Nicole, what she might say. And how Nicole might respond.

Initially she’d considered the merit of just blurting out the unvarnished truth. Wouldn’t be the first time, and it would get her out of this limbo, at any rate. She’d felt her ears burning hot with embarrassment, as if just thinking it was the same as if she was actually sitting with Nicole and letting the words tumble fast from her mouth, _“IhaveacrushonyouandIamkindofconfusedbyit.”_  And would she survive the moment that would inevitably follow, maybe a small smile of pity, followed by laughter? Because why _wouldn’t_ Nicole laugh? She wouldn’t be _mean_ about it or anything but if anyone had women throwing themselves at her on the reg, it would be Nicole, all tall and hot and sweet and ridiculously attractive. And that laughter, that pity, oh, it would be too humiliating to bear. Waverly rejected the idea.

But she also considered the thing that Chrissy had taken to ceaselessly pointing out: that Nicole’s smile would linger longer for Waverly than for anyone else, and the interest that shone there was obvious as the day is long. (Chrissy would generally at this point further opine that they were a couple of dumb clucks who were just waiting around for the other to do something first, and Waverly would generally whap her on the arm and tell her to knock it off, and they would laugh.)

Waverly couldn’t decide which if any of these things to believe; instead, fleeting memories of every encounter she had ever had with Nicole sailed by, a parade of her own awkwardness in the face of Nicole’s charming self. That dimpled smile. Those warm eyes she would drown in.

“Oh, _man,”_  Waverly murmured to herself, with a rueful shake of her head, “you are _such_ a basket case.” She slipped off her bunny slippers, a silly sweet gift from her aunt a couple of Christmases ago, and crawled into bed.

It was bad enough that she couldn’t stop thinking about Nicole in the daytime.

But the images that came drifting during the dark hours of the night, well, those were a whole ’nother thing. Unknown to her before now, they filled her body with a new fire, the curiosity burning white-hot, wondering what would it be like to kiss Nicole, and more.

Sometimes the thoughts were lyrical and full of sweetness, relaxed and halfway to sleeping, she could feel the hum of tension ready to melt to warm desire as she lifted her lips, almost ready to brush against those of the redhead bending toward her, almost…

Sometimes she would wake with a small jolt, and softly curse, not realising she had drifted off and started to dream. So jarring. Waverly could never drop back into that dream once she’d startled out of it, and she kind of wished she could.

Sometimes she wouldn’t wake, and it would continue.

It happened in the frustratingly vague way of dreams, how Nicole’s hands would mold her into nothing but heat, traveling across her body like fevered silk, her imagination sure in the pleasure but entirely too short on details. In the middle of it, Waverly would preen and purr, contented as a housecat; it was only after she woke that she’d grind her teeth, wishing for a few more specifics on what exactly she’d been dreaming about, anyway.

She was a grown ass adult, Waverly told herself. She certainly was not unaware of the implications of her reveries, but she had only been with boys before. And, really, that mostly meant the one boy, her high school sweetheart Champ. There were a few others, a few half-hearted dating attempts that went nowhere. (While flight attendants, as a group, have a pretty abysmal track record at marriage, they also have near-legendary unlimited dating options.) She’d kissed some handsome men, but had always stopped before things got too far along, when it just didn’t feel right.

But this. This felt right, on a whole lot of levels that Waverly could barely catalog. There was something inevitable about it, almost. Like she was drawn to Nicole, a woman she barely knew, really, with a power as elemental as gravity. She falls because there is nothing in the world but falling, and if _that’s_ not frightening, thought Waverly, what is? Could she resist against the pull of it? Should she? Why would she even want to?

She’s turned these stones over and over in her mind, the exciting ones and the frightening ones both, and she knew it now to be attraction, on pretty much all the levels where attraction exists. There had been more than one night where she had awakened with Nicole’s name in her mouth, and her heart pounding, and as she lay in her lonely bed, shifting to the cool side and trailing her hand down to find her thighs damp, she wondered if she’d really done herself a disservice by never considering, before this, whether or not she was interested in women. 

She knows of at least one she’s interested in now, she thought, as her fingers slide against heated flesh and the spontaneous moan that rises from her throat is deep and consuming, and as unstudied as breathing. 

*****

Waverly had kept her contact with Nicole deliberately casual. Just a few _hey how’s it going_ texts that could easily masquerade as unimportant. When she had a couple of days off, Nicole had been flying; when Nicole returned and texted her to see if she was free, Waverly was two days in on a five-day trip. She glared at her phone as though it was the source of all her troubles, trying in vain to keep her irritation at bay. Crazy schedules were just everyday normal for their industry.

Almost two weeks passed before they worked together again, and once again, Nicole managed to surprise Waverly. She was just suddenly _there_ in the briefing room, some sort of tall redheaded magical creature, inexplicably standing at Waverly’s side. “Nicole!” Waverly practically squealed in greeting, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “Ahem, I mean,” as she surreptitiously checked the sleeve, seeing the four stripes. “Captain Haught.”

“Please, ‘Nicole’ is just fine,” Nicole said loudly enough for the others in the room, before leaning in and saying gently, “It’s nice to see you, Waves.”

Waverly felt her widest smile crinkling her cheeks as she grinned her agreement. Oh yes. It was so very nice to see Nicole, tall and dapper in that immaculate uniform suit and tie, and a real warmth in her eyes as she extended her greeting. Waverly basked in it, hoping that today might be the day she’d finally have the courage to ask Nicole … um, well … she was still working on that part, what exactly to ask, but she would have her opportunity, and soon.

*****

The cabin crew had completed service, and there was maybe an hour of flighttime remaining, when the _bing bing_ of the comms let Waverly know the flight deck was calling. She picked up the handset; Nicole spoke crisply on the other end. “We need you for a couple minutes up in the cockpit, are you available?”

“Yes, now is fine,” said Waverly, as she checked to make sure no one was walking forward in the aircraft. Aviation regulations required that while the aircraft was operating, there be two persons in the cockpit at all times (so that, in these days of hardened cockpits, there would be one to open the door in case one became incapacitated) which translated to, if one of the pilots had to use the lav, the forward flight attendant would take that spot for a short time.

“Thank you,” said Nicole before she disconnected, and when Waverly heard the clicking of the locks disengaging, she flattened herself against the bulkhead wall as Dolls squeezed his large frame through the narrow space. She stepped into the cockpit as soon as he left, closing the door behind her and throwing the locks.

“Hey, Captain. Where do you want me?” asked Waverly as Nicole swiveled in her chair, wearing that brilliant smile of hers, and tilted her headset sideways to uncover one ear. The noise level in the cockpit was appalling, much worse than in the cabin. Too late, Waverly realised her innuendo, quickly blushing when she saw the amused flare in Nicole’s eye, but they both politely let it pass.

“You’re fine standing,” said Nicole, “we’re flying auto and smooth for now.” Waverly had taken the sliver of space behind the copilot’s chair, one hand on the headrest. That was how crew had always been trained - ‘one hand for the aircraft,’ meaning always have a hand braced to steady against unexpected movement, never two hands free. “The jump seat is behind me, but then I can’t see you. Everything goin’ okay back there?”

“Yep, no problems aboard,” said Waverly. She paused for a moment, before deciding to just leap right in. ”I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she said, fingertips tracing over the top of the chair, “but I kind of can’t figure out how to start.”

“About what?” said Nicole. “If you want to talk, just talk. I’ll listen.”

“It’s … kind of personal,” said Waverly, lifting her shoulders in frustration.

“Might not be the best place for personal conversations,” said Nicole easily, waving her hand at the controls array. “I can’t give you more than a piece of my attention. Also I’ll remind you there’s a voice recorder for telemetry purposes.”

“Yeah, okay, got it,” Waverly grumbled, “it’s just, I dunno.” Having determined to speak, Waverly pressed on, even though she felt all jumbled up and scattered. “Everything is going in crazy circles in my head, and it’s all too fast, you know? Like, I don’t know what I should be doing or what I should be thinking, and it’s like, could everything just stand still for one frickin’ minute?”

A kind smile crossed Nicole’s face, wreathing those warm eyes with gentleness. “Hey! It’s gonna be okay.” She reached forward, her hand barely brushing against Waverly’s elbow, and Waverly held her breath for just a second at the movement, shocking in both its comfort and the sheer thrill it sent running through her entire body, and _wow._

“I, I just don’t know anymore, the whole dating thing, and the,” Waverly shrugged against the hopeless complexity of getting her thoughts into words, “complications.” She really should have planned this conversation better, she thought. This wasn’t going anywhere close to smoothly.

Nicole’s voice came flat, with a small look of disapproval clouding her face, like it pained her to see Waverly so confused. “You know,” she drawled, “I think you’ve been dating too many shitheads.”

“We’re not - ” Waverly stopped herself, frustrated. “I don’t _know_ what I want. Or what’s expected. From me. From you.”

“Expected by … me?” Nicole said, cautious. She gave a tiny shake of her head, like throwing off an unwanted thought. “No expectations. God, Waverly. I would never ask you to be someone you’re not.”

“Well, okay.” said Waverly, wondering yet again where her courage had fled to. “Maybe just friends.” _Just give me a little more time,_ a part of her wanted to beg. _A little more time, and I can figure out what this is and how this works._

The disappointment flickering across Nicole’s face, although she tried to hide it, was kind of painful to see. “Yeah, sure, Waverly,” she said, turning back to the controls panel. “Whatever you want.”

The conversation was at an end anyway, Dolls calling in on the comm set for the door to be opened, but as Waverly was just about ready to throw the locks, Nicole glanced back one last time, saying, “We can talk more tonight. Only if you want to.” Her eyes, usually so expressive, held something unreadable as they looked into Waverly’s.

“Okay,” Waverly said gruffly, nodding. Then she was out the door and swapping places with Dolls, ducking out of the small space and back into the galley, where she took a few seconds to compose herself, taking a deep breath and smoothing her hands over the flawless seams of her uniform skirt. Then, smiling, she went back to work.

*****

They arrived early evening to Ottawa, their layover for the night, and their regular hotel must have been full, because the driver took them to one of the overflow hotels. “Oh, _score,”_ murmured Jeremy. They were across the street from a food-court sort of strip mall, with several decent carryout choices that weren’t entirely unhealthy, so their dinnertime options were instantly expanded beyond selecting between an overpriced hotel restaurant and scrounging from their lugged around supplies.

Once the hotel concierge had gotten them settled, Waverly borrowed a small notepad from the bell desk. “I’m going for sandwiches,” she announced, “and I’ll pick up for everyone, just write down your order.”

Jeremy declined, saying he preferred the soba place half a block down, and Dolls was already saying goodnight and getting ready to disappear the way he usually did on layovers, but both Chrissy and Nicole agreed, and wrote down their orders for Waverly. Nicole handed the piece of paper back, saying, “Would you like me to come with you?”

“No,” answered Waverly, “I’m just going to change real quick before I run over there. It won’t take me long at all.”

“Thanks, Wave,” said Chrissy, and they all headed for the elevator.

“Do you want money now?” asked Nicole, reaching for her wallet.

“When I get back. Is this all you want, just the footlong? No drink?” said Waverly, squinting at the paper.

“That’s it,” said Nicole. “Make sure you tell them, no pickles.”

*****

They’d eaten their modest dinners, sandwiches wrapped in paper, or a cup of soba noodles in Jeremy’s case, on a picnic bench on the side of the hotel, enjoying the good weather for a change (it had been pouring rain when they left Halifax that morning.) The four of them sat around for a while afterward, chatting, until the mosquitoes chased them inside and they decided to call it a night. At least it wasn’t an early call tomorrow.

Chrissy and Jeremy, who were both on a different floor, got off the elevator first. Chrissy had opened her mouth to say something, mischief in her eyes, but Waverly had given her most cutting glare, silently begging _please do NOT just DON’T_ and she’d closed her mouth and looked down, and merely murmured ‘good night’ when the doors had opened.

Then it was just Waverly and Nicole, walking down the hallway on the fifth floor.

“Isn’t your room … back that way?” asked Waverly.

“Maybe I’m being polite and walking you to your room,” Nicole retorted. “Did you still want to talk about something?”

Waverly hesitated. “Well, not if it’s too late for you. I’m okay.” She pulled out her keycard as they reached her door, unlocking it, and holding it open with her hip.

“Ah, well, then,” said Nicole with a little sigh. “Goodnight, Waverly.” She leaned forward, almost imperceptibly, as her caramel brown eyes flickered down to Waverly’s lips, and Waverly thought, _this is it, this is it,_ Nicole was finally going to kiss her.

But she didn’t. No matter how much Waverly wanted it, could picture every bit of it in shocking vividness, she didn’t bend down and place a soft kiss to the edge of Waverly’s mouth.

Instead, she just stood there, her eyes full of questions as well and hesitating for a moment, and it was all the chance Waverly needed. She grabbed Nicole by the lapels of her lightweight jacket, dragging her backward into the room as the door slammed shut behind them, and then she was suddenly kissing her for all she was worth.

Once caught in the whirlwind, Waverly couldn’t stop. She thought Nicole would have ended up backed against the wall in the entryway, but somehow they’d gotten spun around and Nicole was backpedalling, surprised, and Waverly was following, on her tiptoes and one hand wrapping around the back of Nicole’s neck as her urgency drove her. She was unwilling to relinquish Nicole’s lips for a single moment any time soon, clinging like a person drowning and desperate for this thing she’d never known she’d needed and now couldn’t give up, and they stumbled and swayed and ended up on the small couch on the other side of the room in a sloppy sprawl, Waverly tumbling down on top of Nicole, whose long frame barely fit. Nicole finally put out her hands, holding Waverly at arm’s length, gasping out, “What - what happened to friends?”

Waverly, feeling her entire body snapping like it carried a high-voltage charge, sat up abruptly. She blurted out, “You know what I've always wanted?”

Nicole, looking a little dazed beneath her, breathed out a shaky, confused, “What?”

Waverly ploughed ahead. She’d imagined this conversation with Nicole a hundred times, a thousand ways, and _by god_ these words were going to come spilling out, now that they’d been uncorked. “To parachute out of a plane at fifteen thousand feet.” She nodded, her head bobbing, almost convinced with the determination of the words. “Yeah. To swim far, far out into the ocean so that I can't see the bottom anymore. To eat geoduck.”

Nicole pursed her lips, a small moué of distaste. “Isn't that the one that kind of looks like a p-”

“Yeah, it is,” Waverly interrupted, desperately wanting to stay on track. Because she needed to make Nicole _understand,_ somehow, that this joyous, fraught act of wild kissing might be the most important thing she had ever done in her life. “Point is, I've always wanted to do things that scared me. But,” she gulped, a nervous little hiccup, “well, it's not so easy to be brazen - “ Waverly paused, looking down at her hand, which to her horror was resting _right there on Nicole’s thigh._ She snatched it back, not knowing what to do with it. “ - when the thing that you want, that scares you to death, is sitting right in front of you.”

Realization broke across Nicole’s face, beautiful as the dawn. “I scare you?” Just the sound of her voice, quiet and warm, sent affection flooding into Waverly all over again, buoying her.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” said Waverly, her own smile creasing her face. “Because I don't want to be friends. When I think about what I want to do most in this world - it's you.” There, the words had all been tumbled out, and she’d come to the end of her little script, and Nicole was just _looking at her_ with a crooked half-grin on her face, and Waverly sank, out of momentum. She did what she was prone to do in these kinds of situations, and that was keep talking, the nervous babble she’d forever curse. “Oh god, that sounded so much more romantic in my head. Just jump in any time, Nicole,” she said, waving her hands a little in her frustration and her inability to simply be quiet, “because I really, really don't know how to do this.”

“Oh, sure you do,” said Nicole, her murmur low and her smile growing with heat, and Waverly thought, _jeez,_ if it wasn’t the sexiest rumble she had ever heard in her _entire life,_ a sweet-rough burr carrying a promise of _so much more._

“Maybe I should just stop talking,” Waverly said, her heart racing as her body finally, incongruously went still.

“See, you're getting better at this already.” Nicole was pulling her in, pulling her close, chin lifting so enticingly, their faces only inches apart now.

“Maybe you should stop talking, too,” Waverly said, surprised at how firm her voice still was, because every other part of her felt shaky, hovering at the edge of the precipice. Tiny details crowded into her awareness: the feel of Nicole’s breath faintly stirring across her lips, a tiny tendril of hair that had escaped Nicole’s braid and lay drifting across her temple, the gold flecks in Nicole’s eyes and the heat that rose from her skin. Everything about this moment was burning into her memory.

“Maybe you should make me,” growled Nicole in invitation, and that was it, all of Waverly’s doubts had finally fled, and she knew, she _knew,_ that Nicole wanted this as much as she did.

Waverly leaned in again, closing the small distance and pouring all of herself into the hurried, frantic kiss, swept into the exquisite feeling of Nicole arching under her, how powerful that strong torso was lifting up into her body, and the slide of their mouths together. Her entire body responded, every cell aglow, the pleasure of it overwhelming in the moment.

Then, Nicole did the impossible and made it _better,_ shifting and reversing their positions and making it _sweet,_ as Waverly found herself pressed to the couch with Nicole raining down tender kisses from above her, and she also made it _hotter,_ as they twined their bodies together, Nicole pulling at Waverly’s leg until it was wrapped around her waist, encouraged by the rocking of their hips, and _holy fuck._ Waverly gasped, anticipation flaming through her body, as she knew in an instant that she would give everything to this woman.

“God, how’re you so sexy,” Waverly sighed out between kisses.

Nicole slowed, her fingertips drifting across Waverly’s jaw as she pulled back a bit. “You okay?” she asked softly.

“I am _super_ okay,” answered Waverly, rough hunger turning her voice a bit to gravel, before diving back to kiss Nicole more.

They continued like that a while, making out like teenagers on the cheap hotel couch, all swirling passionate heat and slightly clumsy newness, before Nicole put on the brakes again. “Wave. Waverly,” she murmured, her lips pressed to Waverly’s throat. “Hold on. We gotta work tomorrow.”

“I know,” said Waverly, her fingers tangling into the hair at the back of Nicole’s neck, pulling her braid all askew.

“We need to stop,” said Nicole, not stopping yet.

“I know,” said Waverly, not stopping yet either.

A few more minutes, with Waverly gasping at the feel of Nicole’s fingers tracing over her blouse across the swell of her breasts and trailing down her sides, and the warm frictionless slickness of Nicole’s tongue slipping against hers, before Nicole pulled back again. “I … we … we need to stop,” she said, her breath coming rough.

“Yes,” said Waverly, panting. “If we’re going to stop, we’d better stop now.” Because she knew she was entirely too close to the kind of dizzying breathless arousal that could make her throw all caution to the wind. But Nicole was a _co-worker,_ and this sort of thing had to be treated carefully. Flight crews worked in close proximity to each other, and lived in close proximity on layovers, and relationships were discouraged but actually sort of commonplace. Casual hookups had a way of happening, but when they exploded later (as they usually did) they could get quite messy. Waverly had seen it enough times to be wary.

Nicole looked like she was thinking along a similar line, as they both sat up and self-consciously straightened out their clothes. She ran a hand over the hopeless rumple of her red hair, braid half undone now, and dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry if I … if I …”

“Maybe I should be the one saying that.” Waverly cut Nicole off, and tried to suppress her laughter, and failed. “Since I dragged you into my room.”

Nicole started chuckling, too. “Well, there’s that.”

“But I’m not sorry, actually,” Waverly turned serious. “I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. I think we need to talk about it later, maybe?”

“Yeah,” said Nicole, looking up and meeting her eyes. “We’ll talk. I think I am going to kiss you again, just not on the second day of a four-day trip.” She flashed that smile, the 1000-watt grin that made Waverly’s heart flutter, and asked, “Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Yeah, I will be,” said Waverly. “I have to be. It’s not like I don’t know how to be a grown up.” It was going to be a bit challenging, though, she thought, no lie.

“When we get back, I am going to ask you out on a very nice dinner date,” said Nicole, “to make up for leaving your room like this in the middle of a trip. But the next two days, can we just, I guess, play it cool?”

“Play it cool,” echoed Waverly. “This is a little awkward,” she added, mostly to herself. She remembered a conversation they’d had, some time ago. “The dinner date with the candles?” she asked.

“The dinner date with the candles,” Nicole confirmed, as they stood and walked to the door.

“I am going to hold you to that, Captain,” Waverly said with a grin.

“You most certainly may,” said Nicole. “Goodnight, Waverly.” And she dropped that small, chaste kiss on the side of Waverly’s mouth, the one Waverly had imagined earlier, before disappearing down the hallway of the hotel.

Waverly closed the door and threw the security bolt, then leaned back, happy and giddy and wondering what the _hell_ she had just done.


	7. As Long As You Want Me

Amazingly, it wasn’t awkward.

It was a little strange and a lot unbelievable, how the happiness made Waverly feel like she was just skimming over the surface of normal life, floating on the memory of _we kissed, she kissed me,_ but Waverly knew she had to work tomorrow, and that she, somehow, had to get a decent night’s sleep so she wouldn’t be useless to the crew. It was her routine that saved her, the nightly ritual of checking her uniform and neatly organizing her gear bag, that let her set aside her whirling thoughts, kept her calm and steady. It was only after she’d set her alarm and turned out the lights, crawling into the hotel bed with its sheets smelling of heavy bleach, that she let the giddy, fizzy memories run free, and she dropped slowly into sleep still feeling the gentle, heady amazement about Nicole and the nascent euphoria that blossomed whenever she thought about their kiss.

(She _must_ have dreamed about it, too, but she didn’t remember any of it, and for that Waverly was a little sad.)

But it wasn’t awkward, not in the least. When she got up the next morning, when she came downstairs and greeted everyone and grabbed some breakfast and rode in the van with the rest of the crew, everything had been perfectly fine. Nicole was warm and calm and friendly, her smile and her “good morning, Waverly” was genuine and unrehearsed, same as any other day, and Waverly felt a bit of tension drain from her shoulders. Of _course_ she’d be good at this, she thought, like she was good at everything else; there was something easy about Nicole, and easy to like _so much._ It was no problem at all.

The day was a busy one, full flights and touchy weather that threatened to screw up everyone’s schedules, so they were continually on the verge of running late, thus making all the gate agents testy. The crew flew down through the U.S. for a quick stop in Detroit before continuing to a couple of stops in Québec, and then on to Nova Scotia. A major weather system out of the North Atlantic made the last leg of the day particularly rough, so much so that the inflight service could not be completed, when the captain (today it was Dolls, Nicole was at the copilot controls) called early on for the cabin crew to remain seated and strapped in for the duration of the flight. The plane yawed and shook, and a few of the passengers griped about not getting their drinks, to which Waverly could only politely apologize. Most passengers just endured the flight quietly. Waverly had been working the rear galley that day, which meant she’d spent far too much time belted into her least favorite jump seat, and she was just as ready to get off the plane as the passengers once they touched down in Halifax.

Unwilling to cut short time in each other’s company, even if it was just casual conversation, Nicole and Waverly ended up at the hotel bar together that evening.

“Well, that was a bit dicey today,” sighed Nicole, sliding into her seat. “Weather says it should be clear tomorrow, at least.” She was studying Waverly, more intently than it seemed on first appearance, and Waverly felt the curious heat of those expressive eyes, how comfortably they settled into her. Nicole’s mouth twisted into a gentle crooked smile. “You doin’ okay with things, Waverly? I don’t want you to feel, um, obligated to sit with me or anything.”

Waverly smiled too, before looking away. She took a sip of her drink as her eyes ranged over the room, all dark wood and glass, a surprisingly modern space for what it was, a midrange hotel’s bar attached to a lackluster restaurant. Maybe they had recently renovated in here; the furnishings certainly looked pristine enough. “I am actually more okay with it than I thought I would be,” she said.

Nicole made a wry little face. “Well, that’s good, I guess?”

Waverly thought for a minute, trying to put her still-jumbled thoughts into words. “I think maybe I’m not so … wound up? Like, I had been second guessing myself so much I’d freaked myself out a little.” There it was. She didn’t know exactly _what_ she and Nicole were going to be to each other, but Nicole clearly wanted to try, just as much as she did. The thought made her smile, happiness unfurling in her bold as springtime blooms, as her gaze drifted back to meet Nicole’s. “I’m not freaked out any more.”

Nicole smiled warmly in return. “Yeah, good,” she said, sounding a little relieved, almost talking to herself. “I want, I need to do this right.” Now she turned a quarter-turn in her seat, to face Waverly fully, and those caramel-brown eyes shone soft and serious as her voice came firmer. “You interest me quite a lot, Waverly Earp. I would really like the chance to get to know you better, find out more about you. If you’ll allow me.”

“I would like that,” said Waverly, as she felt the wash of shyness pink her cheeks.

“And that means - not work,” continued Nicole. “That’s why … last night …” and she trailed off, the rest of the sentence unspoken. _That’s why we couldn’t._

“I know,” said Waverly, softly. “I’m okay. With waiting.” She spun her drink, round and round, the condensation making circles on the dark laminate tabletop. She had questions, half-formed questions swirling in her mind like _what do we do next_ and _do you like me as much as I think I like you because I think I like you really a lot._  “I’ll be honest,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting … this. I mean, I’m glad it’s happening but in some ways it’s come out of the wild blue, you know?”

Nicole frowned a small frown, her eyebrows wrinkling together. “Like a surprise?” she said.

“Yeah, maybe,” said Waverly. “Like figuring out a couple of new things. Like, if we want to go out, who asks who on a date now,” she added with a chuckle. Her heart lifted as she saw the small humour hit its mark, easing a bit of the tension, and Nicole shared the laugh with her.

“It might get a little complicated, sure, if we end up dating,” Nicole said, amusement a low rumble in her voice. Brilliance was creeping back into the width of her smile, as well. “But yeah. Let’s take it slow. Let’s see where it can go.”

Waverly nodded her agreement. Everything was alright when Nicole smiled like that, she thought. Today was calm and easy, but the smile was dazzling as the stars, and also hinted at a thousand good things that might lie in the future. Things of warmth, things of heat, things built of affection that had already rooted and started to grow strong. And the more she thought about it, the more Waverly thought Nicole was absolutely right … that whatever this was (were they girlfriends? were they going to be girlfriends? whatever it was, Waverly was certain it was going to be well beyond just one more date) the groundwork of it should be established outside of a working trip. Waverly exhaled, a small sound of her own relief. In a way, it felt like all the important pieces finally clicking into place, and she felt her shoulders start to relax, back to her usual cheerful self. The mood lightened, and they bantered easily for a little while, until Nicole finished her drink, checked her watch, and stood from the table.

“That’s it for me,” she said, “time for sleep. Can I walk you up?”

“Yeah,” said Waverly, finishing her drink as well. And when they parted ways in the hotel hallway, Nicole barely brushing her hand over Waverly’s in lieu of the goodnight kiss she halfway expected, Waverly thought it may have been the most intimate touch she had ever felt.

*****

They went to dinner, two days after they’d gotten back from the trip. Waverly was sure it was the nicest date she’d been on in her life.

Nicole had picked her up, smiling shyly as she complimented her dress (Waverly had chosen the gold dress for the evening, one of her favorites, because it looked quite stylish without being overstated, and she knew it flattered her waist. Plus she had this one necklace that looked just _killer_ with that neckline.) They drove to an upscale restaurant on the west side of town, a nice spot with great picture windows overlooking one of the city’s urban park spaces, the sort of place where the tablecloths are immaculate and the waiters unobtrusive, where the noise level is low enough for intimate conversation, where everything on the menu is superb and the wine list, even better. They lingered long over their meal, unhurried as they enjoyed their evening together. The candle that flickered inside a spotless glass hood, thought Waverly, brought out honey-gold highlights in Nicole’s eyes, mysterious and lovely.

But it wasn’t the nice setting, or the great menu, or the pretty candles that made it the best date ever. It was Nicole.

Nicole, whose radiant face lighted with happiness whenever Waverly smiled, or launched into an amusing little story. Nicole, who asked questions with genuine curiosity, and listened to the meandering answers Waverly wove. Nicole, who fearlessly sat there, open and appreciative, as if she wasn’t afraid to let the world know that Waverly was important to her, and even more, wasn’t afraid to let _Waverly_ know it.

It was powerful and potent, how much of a draw she felt toward Nicole, and how much more. Waverly remained a little surprised at the raw _want_ there was, like fire trickling in her veins, whenever she thought about the redhead, and yeah, thought about her _that way._ It had been building at a creep for a while now, especially since they’d decided to take things slow, and while Waverly wondered at it and how much higher it would grow, it no longer shocked her and she didn’t question it any more. Still, she didn’t know what her next move should be. Maybe Nicole would show her.

*****

It took a while to get Nicole to show her.

They went out a few more times, to dinner and once to a movie and one afternoon they went riding Segways in the park. It was always a little complicated figuring out how their schedules could mesh, and it was always worth it when they could make it work. Waverly enjoyed spending time with Nicole, growing closer to her; there was just something so goddamn _fascinating_ about the woman. And there were times when they were out about town, Nicole would take her hand in hers, and it would give Waverly a thrill to feel those long agile fingers intertwined with her, their hands gentle against each other.

But the goodnight kisses remained firmly on the polite side of the line. When it was time to part ways for the evening, Nicole would lean in with a murmured “thank you for going out with me,” gently brushing her closed lips against Waverly’s, until the day Waverly could stand it no more. Warm sweetness was good, but not enough; she wanted the heat.

“Nicole,” she said, tangling her fingers into red hair as Nicole was pulling away from a too-gentle peck, “you can kiss me. More than that.” They were standing next to Waverly’s Jeep, Nicole’s car parked three stalls away, in a mostly-deserted parking lot.

Held there, Nicole froze for a moment. Her eyes studied deeply into Waverly’s face, flicking down, back up again, several times, and she licked her lips. “Yeah?” she finally breathed out. “I don’t want to push, Waves.”

“I want you to,” said Waverly, her own exhalation shaky with the undercurrent of plain desire, and then Nicole was leaning down again, this time with purpose, and _holy shit._ Waverly felt Nicole’s hands settle at her waist, nimble fingers curling over the curve of her hips, as her half-parted lips met Waverly’s, strong and sure. Nicole’s tongue brushed forward, seeking, and Waverly granted entrance with her heart singing, thrilling to the feel of Nicole tracing the edge of her teeth, slowly exploring. It was wet and deep and tender and so fucking sexy that Waverly thought she might pass out for a second. When Nicole finally pulled back (was it a minute? was it an hour?) there was exponentially more heat in the crooked smile she wore.

“Good night, Waverly,” she said again, softly, before stepping away to her own car, her hand slipping off last, reluctant to let Waverly’s go.

Waverly climbed into the Jeep and started the engine, waving her farewell. She took a deep breath before putting the car in gear - if Nicole could kiss her and make her knees wobble like _that,_ she couldn’t _wait_ to see what was going to come next.

*****

After that, there was a good deal more kissing.

Kissing on the couch of Waverly’s apartment. Kissing on the couch at Nicole’s townhouse. There had been one time, when Waverly had invited Nicole to breakfast, and they’d forgotten whatever midday activity they’d intended when the kitchen-table kissing had escalated to the point of frenzied tossing aside of shirts and freely roaming hands, and the roommate Waverly had thought was on a trip had walked in on them, killing the mood just when Waverly was sure they would _finally_ end up in the bedroom. (Waverly was mortified, the roommate good-natured, and Nicole apologized about a half-million times, after the scramble to find and re-don their discarded clothing.)

Truth be told, Waverly was just fine with kissing Nicole all day long, even while she knew she would want to take things further, and soon.

Nothing could match the sweet slide of Nicole’s lips against hers, the melting warmth as they explored each other, sometimes soft, sometimes urgent. Waverly craved the feel of Nicole’s hands, the way they would sweep up from where they spanned the crown of her hips, along the edge of her ribcage, firm and purposeful, sometimes bold in finding their way under Waverly’s blouse, to trace the underside of Waverly’s breasts, thumbs running a teasing pattern over her nipples, still trapped by her bra. And she absolutely _lived_ for the moments when Nicole would sigh out, tipping her chin to the ceiling, an indescribable pleasured sound rising from her arched throat. It was somewhere between a contented purr and a wanton moan, it was _really_ fucking sexy, and Waverly learned it as Nicole’s tell, that whatever she was doing was a thing that Nicole really, really liked.

Waverly adored learning Nicole, and all the ways she was able to make her respond.

*****

There came a spot where Waverly didn’t see Nicole for a couple of weeks. Waverly wasn’t concerned, exactly … they would exchange a few texts every couple of days, so she knew that Nicole was on one of those long grinds of an overseas trip, with crazy hours and time zones on the other side of the world. It did make her realise that she was missing Nicole, a lot, missing spending time with her. It came like a small persistent ache that would not be satisfied until they saw each other again. The thought quietly brought Waverly up a bit short, asking, _wait, have I gotten that attached?_  And the answer came back, _well, yeah, I guess I have._  There was nothing troubling about the realization. Like, at one point she may have wondered if it was an infatuation that would flame out quickly, but Waverly couldn’t even think about that any more.

_Please, I hope I see her soon,_ went Waverly’s silent prayer to the universe. _I hope she still wants to see me._

*****

Waverly was in her bedroom one evening, reading, when one of her roommates knocked lightly on her door. “Waverly? Your friend is here to see you.”

Setting aside her book, Waverly came to the door, and there was Nicole, standing politely in the hallway, a large paper shopping bag in hand.

Waverly, giving a wide grin, motioned her in. “Hey, been a while! Come back here, tell me where you were.”

Nicole looked a little sheepish, apologizing for showing up unannounced. “I think your doorbell is broken,” she said. “I rang, then I knocked, before your roommate let me in.” She paused in the doorway to Waverly’s bedroom, her usual hesitation, as Waverly stepped back to her small desk and chair. “Did you want to sit out there?”

Waverly just stood, admiring the tall form of the redhead. Nicole was casually dressed, wearing a blue shirt that set off the red of her hair perfectly, clearly a day off for her, and Waverly once again felt the familiar warm affection go swimming through her. “No, I’d rather not,” she finally said. “They’ve got some kitchen project going and I was hiding out back here, reading. Come on in.” As excuses went it was pretty flimsy, but Nicole didn’t seem to balk. She cracked a grin. “Close the door if you are brave enough.”

“I think I can manage that,” said Nicole, pushing the door shut behind her, a dimpled grin creasing her face in return.

“When did you get back? I kinda missed you,” Waverly said. She drifted closer to Nicole, to stand an arm’s length in front of her, her hands fidgeting a little. She wondered if she was blushing; she certainly felt warm.

Nicole smiled apologetically. “Yesterday. My schedule got screwed this month, I ended up with a mess of reserve days.” Waverly nodded in sympathy. Reserve duty meant you could be called to work on very short notice, typically to replace a crewmember who called in sick, or had been delayed elsewhere. Reserve wasn’t easy and the higher your seniority the less you had to do it, so it was an indicator of Nicole’s relatively low ranking, but all crew flew reserve at one time or another in their careers. “Then,” she continued, “I caught a chair on one of the bigbirds to Singapore, which was really cool. I hadn’t flown into that airport before.”

Waverly gave a low whistle. “Niiice. You were copilot?”

Nicole chuckled, saying, “I wish. First officer.” It made sense, though, that Nicole would be at the third seat her first time into a large international ’port like that, thought Waverly. An opportunity to observe and learn. Nicole went on, dipping her chin with that little shy head-tilt she had. “And I brought you something.” She extended the bag in her hand to Waverly.

Waverly murmured, “Oh, you didn’t have to,” as she took the proffered bag. Peeking inside, she saw a boxed tea set, the careful packaging bearing writing in a language she didn’t know. Nicole would have obviously had to hand-carry the fragile object to get it home safely. “Oh, wow.”

“I saw this at the duty free shop, and it was so pretty, it made me think of you,” said Nicole. Again, that shy head-dip, as she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “The green made me think of your eyes.”

“This is … beautiful, Nicole,” said Waverly, her eyes widening. She carefully opened the box and took out one of the cups to look at it closely, turning it around and around in her hand. The workmanship was exquisite, the delicate porcelain a joy to hold, and the fine green glaze was worked in with gold and brown and honey flecks of color, fired over a dark base. “This is absolutely lovely.” She looked up at Nicole, whose eyes were shining with excitement, watching her, pleased at her reaction. “It’s super thoughtful of you.”

Nicole paused. “Well. I think about you a lot.”

“It’s not too complicated, is it?” said Waverly, still hesitant. Part of her wanted to shower Nicole with kisses, but it had been _a while_ since they’d seen each other, and she felt awkward. “That we don’t get to see each other for weeks on end, because of work?” She set the tea set down on the desk, then turned back to face Nicole.

“Not for me,” said Nicole. “I mean, it can be, a little, but it’s worth it to me.” Their fingers tangled together - Waverly wasn’t sure who had reached first - and they stood facing each other, close and serious. “I’ll be here for you,” Nicole breathed out. “As long as you want me, I will be by your side.”

Waverly felt her heart swell, just gazing up at the shy hopeful smile on Nicole’s face, the earnestness shining in her eyes. Nicole caught her lip between her teeth, before her tongue peeked out, glossing over her upper lip. Waverly saw the nerves reined in, how Nicole radiated both anxiousness and patience, waiting a decision, and Waverly _knew._ All the last hesitations, wondering if Nicole felt as strongly for her as she felt for Nicole, wondering if the moment was right or should she wait, all was swept aside by Nicole’s small, vital confession, and Waverly _knew._

Emboldened, Waverly tilted her face up.

Nicole’s lips were sweet, so incredibly gentle and tender and sweet, brushing across hers.

Then the kissing moved past _sweet_ in a great hurry, as hunger took them, and Waverly’s hands were curling under Nicole’s jaw, across her cheeks. Nicole’s hands dropped to her waist, drawing her in, sighing. Waverly found her fingers fumbling at the buttons of Nicole’s shirt, eager and clumsy, as Nicole leaned in, her mouth pressed to Waverly’s forehead, breath hot and fast.

Desire flashed over in an instant, as Waverly felt Nicole’s hands reaching, undoing the blouse she was wearing, as she tugged Nicole’s belt free. She was burning, on fire to feel the softness of Nicole’s skin, the slide of those hands and that mouth, but at that moment Nicole shuddered, and caught her wrists to stop her, shakily breathing out, “Wait, Waverly, wait.”

Waverly paused, heart hammering. _Don’t stop, please don’t stop_ echoed ceaselessly in her mind.

“Are you sure?” whispered Nicole.

“Yeah,” said Waverly, no hesitation. She couldn’t be more sure of anything in the world, standing there, as the moment hung.

“Yeah?” said Nicole, face spilling over with shy eagerness, biting her lip, and Waverly could feel the intensity of her desire, how it matched her own, how it filled the space between them and charged the air fierce as a summer storm.

“I mean,” said Waverly, “best sex is … reunion sex, right?” As Nicole made a small noise, joyful and nervous, she went on, “And I, I … I like you.” _Like_ was an entirely insufficient word for what she felt, but it would have to do for now, and Nicole seemed to accept it, a slow smile curling across her face and her finger curled under Waverly’s chin, lifting.

“Oh, I like you too,” said Nicole, her words coming as a languid whispered drawl, before bringing their lips together again, and Waverly gave herself over entirely, surrendering to the overwhelming _want_ that flooded her like never before.

*****

They spent the night together that night, finally falling into exhausted boneless sleep in the small hours of the morning. Waverly had been both elated and overwhelmed, by the sheer joy of how Nicole brought them together and took charge of their pleasure, patient and generous in their lovemaking. Oh, she had so much to learn, Waverly thought, and Nicole was going to be such an excellent teacher.

_“Fuck, how’re you so good at that,” Waverly had murmured, raspy-voiced and sated, after the second or maybe the third time she had come._

_Nicole’s reply drifted light, her voice sweet as honey, her face pressed to Waverly’s thigh. “I’m glad you think so.” Waverly could feel her smile curving against her skin. “Because I’d like to do it again.”_

Now, with the bright light of morning splashing through the curtains, Waverly drifted up to wakefulness to find their bodies pleasantly intertwined. The long lithe form pressed against her, warm and naked, made Waverly want to purr as she snuggled in close, feeling Nicole’s body ripple and settle in response to the movement. Nicole’s agile fingers were lazily carding through her hair.

Waverly lifted her head, saw that Nicole’s eyes were closed, her face slack. “You awake?” she asked quietly.

“Halfway,” murmured Nicole.

“I can get up, get us some tea or some coffee, if you want,” said Waverly.

“No,” said Nicole, tightening her arm around Waverly’s shoulder just a bit. “Stay here a little longer, I like you right here.” She turned slightly, gathering Waverly closer to her, sighing softly with the same pleasure Waverly felt just starting to rise in her own body.

“Good,” murmured Waverly, “I like it right here, too.”

“Good,” repeated Nicole, her voice warm and gravelled with sleep, as her hands began to trace wandering patterns across Waverly’s skin, the heat of it barely beginning, that still made Waverly want to stretch and roll under the touch, muscle and sinew revelling in the frank sweet pleasure of it. Nicole’s mouth pressed kisses, languid, across her temple and down the side of her face. “This is very, very good, Waverly Earp,” she breathed in her ear. “Gonna be so good, you and me.”

Waverly, turning and rising a bit to push Nicole over on her back, so she could kiss her way down that lovely pale column of throat, could only agree with all her heart. _Oh, yes. So very, very good._

**Author's Note:**

> I love these characters so much.
> 
> While I thought I would never write an AU, this one got its hooks in my brain and wouldn't let go, and it's been a fun little ride. Waverly's bubbliness and Nicole's quiet authority felt like such a perfect fit for this world.
> 
> Enjoy, and leave a comment or kudo if you liked the story!
> 
> _Support fanfiction! If you enjoy my work, you can buy me a coffee:[ko-fi.com/booinla](https://ko-fi.com/booinla)_


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